OK, I have to share some of the weird things I've seen in the gym lately. I've been meaning to write this for a while, but what I saw last night pushed it all to the forefront.
I bought a week pass to the LA Fitness down the street in Evanston for my stay this week. Seem like normal people. A few weird things, like the guy on the treadmill who was galloping sideways. Maybe he's a boxer? So last night, I packed up my gym back, grabbed dinner, then headed in to get a workout in before collapsing for the day. I change, hop on the treadmill for 40 minutes, nothing too exciting. I grab my bag, head back into the locker room, bundle up and turn the corner to walk out. And that's when I saw it. A butt. It wasn't just a woman changing. It was what I can only assume to be a weight lifter, with big shoulder, ponytail, headband, black high tops and a black thong leotard. I cannot for the life of me figure out where her pants went, especially since she was still wearing shoes. And it wasn't just a butt. It was all dimply and slightly over medium sized. Not that mine's any better, but I don't wander around the locker room fully clothed except my thonged behind. I almost gasped out loud.
At my gym in Carlsbad, there's a cardio weight lifting class I try to get to a few times a week. There's one woman who's usually there who thinks it's still 1983. She shows up without fail wearing a leotard, tshirt with the neck cut away, spandex shorts, flowing coolotty shorts over top, huge bangs, a sweatband with her pony, and high tops. Doesn't she look around?
Then there's the anorexic woman in the back of the room. She drives me nuts when we squat. First, she wears spandex shorts and a sports bra - and that's it - every class. And she's probably at least 50. We start the class with five minutes of squats with weights on a bar on your shoulders. Ouch. And we all know the proper way to squat - knees over toes, don't go below a 90 degree angle, yada yada. She skips the weight bar entirely. And then she does this almost-plie squats (turned out ballet style). And she drops her butt so that it's inches from the floor so quickly it's like she's in the Drop it Like It's Hot video. And the she pops back up. And all I can think is 1) you're not getting any kind of work out and 2) her knees!
And lastly, I have to comment on the workout thong. What is up with that?! I'm cool with the thong movement. No big deal when I'm sitting in my office chair all day. But at the gym when I'm hopping all over the place, I need something that's going to stay in its proper place - low on my thighs granny panty style.
Thursday, December 11, 2008
Sunday, December 7, 2008
Catching Up
It has been far, far too long. But I've been storing up the stories. Here are my latest crazies from flying.
I flew to Michigan at the end of October for a week of work/personal alumnae stuff/Rachel's birthday. Yeah, Rachel lives in Columbus, but it just happened to work out that we were both in A2 that weekend. So anyway, I'm getting on my flight on the way out of San Diego, connecting in Minneapolis. This seemingly sweet, 40s something blond woman sat next to me with her husband directly in front. I always board a plane prepared. Magazines, book, mp3 player and serious headphones, neck pillow for the early morning or late night flights. So I start with my new Self magazine. And she comments, oh, that's a good one. I nod, smile politely, mostly ignore her. Her random comments go on for a while. I hear about her many kids, the one in wherever for college and how expensive it is to mail winter clothes to him, yada yada. I don't respond much, ask questions or share comments hoping she'll get the hint. I've moved onto my book. Finally I pull out the headphones. And that doesn't stop her! But here's where it gets weird. She asks me if I take any supplements. I say no, not intending to get into a convo about my daily multi-vitamin. And she launches into a sales pitch for some crazy guarana energy drink. She pulls out a brochure, tells me all about how it makes her feel amazing. She hands me her card and tells me to get in touch when I get back to San Diego. My eyes are wide, I'm nodding lots, thinking, how the hell do I make this stop?? I still have my headphones on . . . And THEN - she asks me for my card so that she can follow up with me! Thank the Lord they were buried in my laptop case in the overhead compartment. And thank the Lord we were late landing and I had to run off the plane! Weird . . . Vitamin Water is as far as I'll go.
I had a direct flight to Michigan over Thanksgiving. Direct flights are mixed bags. It's long. Damn long. I don't mind the extra time traveling for a break from the plane and a bit of cardio while I'm sprinting through the airport. But this time I had the bird. And it's tough on her to be in her travel cage, so I didn't want to prolong it. Elite status got me an aisle bulkhead seat, so lots of room. And I lucked out in having the only open seat on the plane be next to me. But right behind me was a mom traveling with her two little boys (7 and 9 maybe?) and toddler. Mom and toddler sat in the window. I knew it would be bad when the flight attendant told mom that the baby had to actually sit on her lap. The boys weren't noisy. But they were small enough to sit laying down (almost) in the seat with their knees beat up against the backs of the chairs in front of them. And they played video games against each other all night. Which meant that every time Mario twitched, they twitched and I got a knee in my back. After an hour of sitting with the pissed off bird on my lap, trying to keep her warm and calm, and being bounced around every 10 seconds, I got up, turned around and asked if they could try to not kick my seat. Then I looked at mom pointedly and sat back down. It didn't help. Around hour 3, toddler started screaming, running back and forth between the seats in their row and punching her fists into the seats. OMG. And 3 and a half, one of the boys stood up to turn on his light and hit me in the head with his PSP. That was when I lost it. My nerves were frayed. And an hour to go! OMG, I wanted to scream! I dug out a twenty, ran up to the front and begged the flight attendance for a beer. At least it dulled the pain for the last hour. But then mom started listing every family member they had. "We're going to see Alma, and Alfredo, and . . . " And around the time the beer started to hit my veins, I got bold enough to grab the kid's foot every time he kicked my chair. Didn't stop it, but I think it scared him a little. I'm cool with scaring kids sometimes. There are only two other times I can think of when I was so excited to be getting off a plane.
So today I parked at my usual long term lot and the shuttle pulled up while I was unloading my bags from the trunk. I knew right away when I didn't see the driver come grab my bag who it would be. Irma, my least favorite driver. Her height is almost the same as her circumference. And she's lazy as hell. Every other driver gets off, grabs your bags and throws them on. Irma stands at the top of the stairs of the bus and stares at you. If she bothers to stand up from her seat. I tip the drivers well. But I don't tip Irma. I have my big suitcase packed with sweaters (Chicago), my laptop case stuffed with paperwork, my winter coat and my work tote. I obviously can't manage to get it all up on the bus alone in one trip. And she stands so that she takes up the whole stairway. You have to shove around her to get on. She holds out the card with my space number jotted down - from 3 stairs up. And when I grab only my laptop case, tote and coat, she reluctantly rolls down the stairs to get my suitcase. It's heavy, I know. I packed it. But I also carried it down a flight of stairs and threw it up in my Jeep. And I'm not that big. She grabs the top handle, the stairs handle and manages somehow to drag herself and the suitcase up the steps. And she says, this weigh 50 pounds? I just looked at her and said, no. She said, well it's 49 and a half then. And folds herself into her seat and waits for the next woman to carry all 8 of her own things up the steps and onto the shuttle. She yells at me, what airline? Literally, yells. Sadly, I've already answered this question. I think she's pissed. The first woman to get off has only a small purse and a small roller bag. She grabs her purse, walks off, then turns around and says to Irma, it's the blue one, and waits while she rolls out of her chair and practically pushes the suitcase down the stairs at the woman. Go woman! We finally get to my terminal and she makes no move. I think, shit. I'm going to have to leave my laptop on its own in the driving lane and come back up for my suitcase. But she grabs it, turns around and walks down the steps backward and bumps my suitcase down the steps. Seriously? It only weight 44 and a half pounds, Irma.
I had an amazing seat on my long leg of the trip today. You know the planes that have the door in the middle, with first class to the left and the rest of the plane to the right? I was on the aisle in that seat when you first walk in. I had about 10 feet of legroom. And no one was in the middle seat. But the flight attendants were retarded and meddling, checking every other bag before people had gotten on the plane, telling parents they couldn't sit together, yada yada. We were about set to go when they tap this curmudgeonly old man and tell him he can take the middle seat next to me. Come on! He had a perfectly good aisle bulkhead. I was in the process of digging something out of my bag when they told him to move and had set my stuff on the middle seat. I said, I'm sorry, it'll be just a minute. And he picks up my stuff, throws it on my seat, and sits down. He smells. Stale and cigarettey. Like my step-grandfather. And the man had elbows like needles. He insisted on sitting with his hands crossed on his lap, elbows out. And he didn't care if we were touching. In fact, I think he preferred it. I had planned to sleep for most of the flight and was out cold with my fabulous neck pillow and my coat acting as a blanket when his elbow poked me so hard in the arm it hurt! I actually whimpered and he removed his elbow for all of 10 seconds. I was so pissed. I wanted to kick the flight attendants. Our seats were across from one of the jump seats for the flight attendants and she sat quietly while we were landing, not talking to us like some of them do. I was busy reading. And old guy was busy commenting, loud and repeatedly, that we were circling the airport, not landing, getting later, the other flights better be delayed . . . We finally land, yeah, a few minutes late, and he jumps up. My bag is in an overhead compartment a little farther up. He saw me digging around in my bag a few times, so he (kindly?) grabs my bag and sets it down on the floor about 2 rows forward from where I was. And then continued to shove his way forward into first class. I got my stuff, got off the plane and started heading for my next gate when a stupid cart when whizzing by me and old guy was sitting alone getting a ride to his next stop. Geez. Just poking me every chance he got.
I flew to Michigan at the end of October for a week of work/personal alumnae stuff/Rachel's birthday. Yeah, Rachel lives in Columbus, but it just happened to work out that we were both in A2 that weekend. So anyway, I'm getting on my flight on the way out of San Diego, connecting in Minneapolis. This seemingly sweet, 40s something blond woman sat next to me with her husband directly in front. I always board a plane prepared. Magazines, book, mp3 player and serious headphones, neck pillow for the early morning or late night flights. So I start with my new Self magazine. And she comments, oh, that's a good one. I nod, smile politely, mostly ignore her. Her random comments go on for a while. I hear about her many kids, the one in wherever for college and how expensive it is to mail winter clothes to him, yada yada. I don't respond much, ask questions or share comments hoping she'll get the hint. I've moved onto my book. Finally I pull out the headphones. And that doesn't stop her! But here's where it gets weird. She asks me if I take any supplements. I say no, not intending to get into a convo about my daily multi-vitamin. And she launches into a sales pitch for some crazy guarana energy drink. She pulls out a brochure, tells me all about how it makes her feel amazing. She hands me her card and tells me to get in touch when I get back to San Diego. My eyes are wide, I'm nodding lots, thinking, how the hell do I make this stop?? I still have my headphones on . . . And THEN - she asks me for my card so that she can follow up with me! Thank the Lord they were buried in my laptop case in the overhead compartment. And thank the Lord we were late landing and I had to run off the plane! Weird . . . Vitamin Water is as far as I'll go.
I had a direct flight to Michigan over Thanksgiving. Direct flights are mixed bags. It's long. Damn long. I don't mind the extra time traveling for a break from the plane and a bit of cardio while I'm sprinting through the airport. But this time I had the bird. And it's tough on her to be in her travel cage, so I didn't want to prolong it. Elite status got me an aisle bulkhead seat, so lots of room. And I lucked out in having the only open seat on the plane be next to me. But right behind me was a mom traveling with her two little boys (7 and 9 maybe?) and toddler. Mom and toddler sat in the window. I knew it would be bad when the flight attendant told mom that the baby had to actually sit on her lap. The boys weren't noisy. But they were small enough to sit laying down (almost) in the seat with their knees beat up against the backs of the chairs in front of them. And they played video games against each other all night. Which meant that every time Mario twitched, they twitched and I got a knee in my back. After an hour of sitting with the pissed off bird on my lap, trying to keep her warm and calm, and being bounced around every 10 seconds, I got up, turned around and asked if they could try to not kick my seat. Then I looked at mom pointedly and sat back down. It didn't help. Around hour 3, toddler started screaming, running back and forth between the seats in their row and punching her fists into the seats. OMG. And 3 and a half, one of the boys stood up to turn on his light and hit me in the head with his PSP. That was when I lost it. My nerves were frayed. And an hour to go! OMG, I wanted to scream! I dug out a twenty, ran up to the front and begged the flight attendance for a beer. At least it dulled the pain for the last hour. But then mom started listing every family member they had. "We're going to see Alma, and Alfredo, and . . . " And around the time the beer started to hit my veins, I got bold enough to grab the kid's foot every time he kicked my chair. Didn't stop it, but I think it scared him a little. I'm cool with scaring kids sometimes. There are only two other times I can think of when I was so excited to be getting off a plane.
So today I parked at my usual long term lot and the shuttle pulled up while I was unloading my bags from the trunk. I knew right away when I didn't see the driver come grab my bag who it would be. Irma, my least favorite driver. Her height is almost the same as her circumference. And she's lazy as hell. Every other driver gets off, grabs your bags and throws them on. Irma stands at the top of the stairs of the bus and stares at you. If she bothers to stand up from her seat. I tip the drivers well. But I don't tip Irma. I have my big suitcase packed with sweaters (Chicago), my laptop case stuffed with paperwork, my winter coat and my work tote. I obviously can't manage to get it all up on the bus alone in one trip. And she stands so that she takes up the whole stairway. You have to shove around her to get on. She holds out the card with my space number jotted down - from 3 stairs up. And when I grab only my laptop case, tote and coat, she reluctantly rolls down the stairs to get my suitcase. It's heavy, I know. I packed it. But I also carried it down a flight of stairs and threw it up in my Jeep. And I'm not that big. She grabs the top handle, the stairs handle and manages somehow to drag herself and the suitcase up the steps. And she says, this weigh 50 pounds? I just looked at her and said, no. She said, well it's 49 and a half then. And folds herself into her seat and waits for the next woman to carry all 8 of her own things up the steps and onto the shuttle. She yells at me, what airline? Literally, yells. Sadly, I've already answered this question. I think she's pissed. The first woman to get off has only a small purse and a small roller bag. She grabs her purse, walks off, then turns around and says to Irma, it's the blue one, and waits while she rolls out of her chair and practically pushes the suitcase down the stairs at the woman. Go woman! We finally get to my terminal and she makes no move. I think, shit. I'm going to have to leave my laptop on its own in the driving lane and come back up for my suitcase. But she grabs it, turns around and walks down the steps backward and bumps my suitcase down the steps. Seriously? It only weight 44 and a half pounds, Irma.
I had an amazing seat on my long leg of the trip today. You know the planes that have the door in the middle, with first class to the left and the rest of the plane to the right? I was on the aisle in that seat when you first walk in. I had about 10 feet of legroom. And no one was in the middle seat. But the flight attendants were retarded and meddling, checking every other bag before people had gotten on the plane, telling parents they couldn't sit together, yada yada. We were about set to go when they tap this curmudgeonly old man and tell him he can take the middle seat next to me. Come on! He had a perfectly good aisle bulkhead. I was in the process of digging something out of my bag when they told him to move and had set my stuff on the middle seat. I said, I'm sorry, it'll be just a minute. And he picks up my stuff, throws it on my seat, and sits down. He smells. Stale and cigarettey. Like my step-grandfather. And the man had elbows like needles. He insisted on sitting with his hands crossed on his lap, elbows out. And he didn't care if we were touching. In fact, I think he preferred it. I had planned to sleep for most of the flight and was out cold with my fabulous neck pillow and my coat acting as a blanket when his elbow poked me so hard in the arm it hurt! I actually whimpered and he removed his elbow for all of 10 seconds. I was so pissed. I wanted to kick the flight attendants. Our seats were across from one of the jump seats for the flight attendants and she sat quietly while we were landing, not talking to us like some of them do. I was busy reading. And old guy was busy commenting, loud and repeatedly, that we were circling the airport, not landing, getting later, the other flights better be delayed . . . We finally land, yeah, a few minutes late, and he jumps up. My bag is in an overhead compartment a little farther up. He saw me digging around in my bag a few times, so he (kindly?) grabs my bag and sets it down on the floor about 2 rows forward from where I was. And then continued to shove his way forward into first class. I got my stuff, got off the plane and started heading for my next gate when a stupid cart when whizzing by me and old guy was sitting alone getting a ride to his next stop. Geez. Just poking me every chance he got.
Sunday, November 16, 2008
Yak
I think, after 28 years, I have finally managed the art of puking on command. Yes, that's right. I can puke anytime I want to!
Don't worry, I won't give you lots of gory details.
I've had a really bad week's sleep. I'm trying really hard not to take anything to help me nod off (we all know what happened the last time I kept the Ambien on my nightstand) and have been trying to go it alone. Lavender and chamomile oils on my wrists, lots of exercise, cool environment, all the other goodies I've mentioned before. (No, not those kinds of goodies. (Sorry, listening to a Janet Evonovich in the car.)) Last night, though yes, it was Saturday, I was up until 3:30a. I was screwing around on the computer (aka working on "homemade" Christmas gifts on Kodakgallery) and finally called it quits at 2a, long after I should have. I have a business trip to San Fran in 3 days and then 10 days in Michigan, where I'll be functioning on the Eastern time zone, meetings and all. So I set my alarm to 8:45a this morning planning to get up no matter what time I fell asleep. OK, so I probably logged 6 hours. Not bad, really. Just not on the schedule I'd like. I don't think any of my prospects would be open to a meeting at midnight when I'm amazingly wide awake.
So you get the drift - bad week, stressing about the holidays and some crazy messages and signals I've gotten lately. Not enough sleep. I did amazingly well today. Didn't consider a nap once. Got a lot accomplished - some holiday shopping done, a swing by the post office, the gym, an email audit, a few good episodes of House. But still physically drained.
My plan was to take half an Ambien at 10p and get back on some semblance of a schedule. Well, I started House while I was cleaning up the kitchen and got sucked in. Halfway through I figured I'd try a little alcohol to see if that helped me loosen up enough to sleep. If it's going to help, I can feel it course through my blood, draining the last 2 drops of energy I've been running on for hours. A great House episode, but the beer didn't do enough. So I decided to pop the top on the big bottle of raisin beer I've been saving. I've been curious, but hesitant to open it unless I'm committed to finishing it in 2 nights or have a friend to help me. I stood up to pop the cork and the Guinness hit me like a Mac truck. Alright! I'm going to make it tonight! I figured, eh, let's poor it anyway. What's a little extra alcohol going to do but make me fall over quicker?
So I poured 3/4 of a glass, grabbed my book (Ann Patchett's Run - the relationships are every bit as interesting and touching as in Belle Canto) and headed to bed. I washed up, hit the sack, and started reading while enjoying my beer. Hmm. First thought - this would be awesome with a red meat sandwich - salami and Italian olive salad or roast beef and Swiss. I kept drinking. Hmm. My stomach started to fill up with liquid. Admittedly, I didn't eat enough today. Mostly I was lazy. I had planned to go to the grocery story and get mac and cheese and a salad for dinner, but I just didn't feel like putting on my pants. So I pulled together some pancake batter, ate a little tuna and called it a night. I don't know if the lack of calories, the lack of sleep or some allergic reaction to the beer was at fault. But about halfway through I had to put the beer down and cradle my belly. I thought, I feel gross. I'll feel better if I puke.
I have thought this before - many times. Especially while living in 808 in college. And I have never mastered the art of sticking my finger down my throat. Gross! Even during Power Hours, the only thing that could make me puke and rally was watching another person puke. I could never manage the puking. It amazed me last fall when I got dehydrated and puked up an amazing sushi meal minutes after Jon got home from Iraq and he was able to stand in the bathroom and watch me and make sure I was OK. I'd be hanging over the balcony breathing into a bag if he had been the one with his head in the toilet.
So I decided to give it a go. Eh, the toilet got cleaned today - what do I have to lose? Only my favorite tee that I would insist on tossing directly in the wash. Amazingly I was able to use my stomach muscles and clear my belly of whatever was bothering me. I feel fabulous now! Except for my puffy eyes, which always follow puking because I automatically start crying. And the toothbrush I have to replace in the morning. And the toilet that has to be rescrubbed. And the comfort of a favorite tee.
Yup, not making this a habit. I would be a horrible bulimic. I would have to A) get all waterproof make-up, B) carry extra changes of clothes, and C) invest in a dental hygiene company. I already own 45% of Clorox's stock, so I'm good on that front. (My mom owns the rest.)
So, 2.5 hours later, I'm right back where I started. Wide awake and cold. I guess it's time to pop that half an Ambien . . .
Don't worry, I won't give you lots of gory details.
I've had a really bad week's sleep. I'm trying really hard not to take anything to help me nod off (we all know what happened the last time I kept the Ambien on my nightstand) and have been trying to go it alone. Lavender and chamomile oils on my wrists, lots of exercise, cool environment, all the other goodies I've mentioned before. (No, not those kinds of goodies. (Sorry, listening to a Janet Evonovich in the car.)) Last night, though yes, it was Saturday, I was up until 3:30a. I was screwing around on the computer (aka working on "homemade" Christmas gifts on Kodakgallery) and finally called it quits at 2a, long after I should have. I have a business trip to San Fran in 3 days and then 10 days in Michigan, where I'll be functioning on the Eastern time zone, meetings and all. So I set my alarm to 8:45a this morning planning to get up no matter what time I fell asleep. OK, so I probably logged 6 hours. Not bad, really. Just not on the schedule I'd like. I don't think any of my prospects would be open to a meeting at midnight when I'm amazingly wide awake.
So you get the drift - bad week, stressing about the holidays and some crazy messages and signals I've gotten lately. Not enough sleep. I did amazingly well today. Didn't consider a nap once. Got a lot accomplished - some holiday shopping done, a swing by the post office, the gym, an email audit, a few good episodes of House. But still physically drained.
My plan was to take half an Ambien at 10p and get back on some semblance of a schedule. Well, I started House while I was cleaning up the kitchen and got sucked in. Halfway through I figured I'd try a little alcohol to see if that helped me loosen up enough to sleep. If it's going to help, I can feel it course through my blood, draining the last 2 drops of energy I've been running on for hours. A great House episode, but the beer didn't do enough. So I decided to pop the top on the big bottle of raisin beer I've been saving. I've been curious, but hesitant to open it unless I'm committed to finishing it in 2 nights or have a friend to help me. I stood up to pop the cork and the Guinness hit me like a Mac truck. Alright! I'm going to make it tonight! I figured, eh, let's poor it anyway. What's a little extra alcohol going to do but make me fall over quicker?
So I poured 3/4 of a glass, grabbed my book (Ann Patchett's Run - the relationships are every bit as interesting and touching as in Belle Canto) and headed to bed. I washed up, hit the sack, and started reading while enjoying my beer. Hmm. First thought - this would be awesome with a red meat sandwich - salami and Italian olive salad or roast beef and Swiss. I kept drinking. Hmm. My stomach started to fill up with liquid. Admittedly, I didn't eat enough today. Mostly I was lazy. I had planned to go to the grocery story and get mac and cheese and a salad for dinner, but I just didn't feel like putting on my pants. So I pulled together some pancake batter, ate a little tuna and called it a night. I don't know if the lack of calories, the lack of sleep or some allergic reaction to the beer was at fault. But about halfway through I had to put the beer down and cradle my belly. I thought, I feel gross. I'll feel better if I puke.
I have thought this before - many times. Especially while living in 808 in college. And I have never mastered the art of sticking my finger down my throat. Gross! Even during Power Hours, the only thing that could make me puke and rally was watching another person puke. I could never manage the puking. It amazed me last fall when I got dehydrated and puked up an amazing sushi meal minutes after Jon got home from Iraq and he was able to stand in the bathroom and watch me and make sure I was OK. I'd be hanging over the balcony breathing into a bag if he had been the one with his head in the toilet.
So I decided to give it a go. Eh, the toilet got cleaned today - what do I have to lose? Only my favorite tee that I would insist on tossing directly in the wash. Amazingly I was able to use my stomach muscles and clear my belly of whatever was bothering me. I feel fabulous now! Except for my puffy eyes, which always follow puking because I automatically start crying. And the toothbrush I have to replace in the morning. And the toilet that has to be rescrubbed. And the comfort of a favorite tee.
Yup, not making this a habit. I would be a horrible bulimic. I would have to A) get all waterproof make-up, B) carry extra changes of clothes, and C) invest in a dental hygiene company. I already own 45% of Clorox's stock, so I'm good on that front. (My mom owns the rest.)
So, 2.5 hours later, I'm right back where I started. Wide awake and cold. I guess it's time to pop that half an Ambien . . .
Wednesday, October 22, 2008
The management at my apartment complex is retarded! They don't listen to a damn thing you say. Remember last summer when I went into the office to complain that the dog downstairs, who was obviously sick, was pooping on the porch? And they'd just leave it there for days, letting the smell waft upstairs . . . And I got a lecture about how I'm cruel to animals. Um, is it cruel to ask the owner to pick up the poop??
So today I noticed a Jeep in my friend Keri's parking spot. I know she's shopping for a car so I thought she'd gotten one. But then I noticed the old and beat up license plate. That was at about noon when I was watering the plants. I ran a few errands around 1:30p and noticed the back door to the Jeep open and a guy sitting in there. I thought maybe his kid had fallen asleep and so he was sitting with the baby while it napped. I came back after about 30 minutes and he was still sitting in the car with the door open. Hmm . . . Around 4p I took Chip to the pet hotel and the guy was still in the backseat. When I got back around 5p, still there . . .
So I grabbed my mailbox keys and stopped in the office to ask about the weird guy sitting in the car. The same woman who told me to have a heart over a smelly porch was in the office. She walked out of her office and had a view out the window of my little parking area and the Jeep. First she asked if I was looking for a place to live. I said, no. I started to tell her that I'd noticed the black Jeep and a guy sitting in the backseat all day long. And she said, oh, you live in 4-202? I don't see you very much. I said, yeah, I travel a lot. So that Jeep has been sitting here all day and there's a man sitting in the back. She interrupts - Is it under the carport? I said yes. Which one? Is it that one? And she points out mine and says, that's not under the carport. I said, I know, that's my car. The black one. And she says, oh, is he in your spot? Because that spot belongs to 1-202. I said, I know. I'm friends with them and that is not their car. Oh, she says, I know which spot that is. It belongs to an apartment over there, and she points somewhere else random. I almost started yelling! I said, I'm not concerned about the spot! I have never seen that car before and it's been parked there all day - there is a man sitting in the backseat! She said, has he gotten out? OK, what relevance is that?? But I said, no. He has the back door open, but has been sitting inside all day. It's starting to get dark and I think it's odd. Do you know anything about this situation? Finally! She says, well it might be a friend or relative of them, and again points to the random apartment. She says, I'll look into it. Thank you for letting me know.
OMG, it was so painful! If she would let you finish talking, it would conversations much shorter and people like her a lot better!
And speaking of weirdness in that office, my friend Keri found a typed note taped to her door a few months ago telling her that she's gorgeous. Her husband was in Iraq and she's on the first floor - understandably creeped out. She took the note to the office and the manager told her it was cute and just a funny love note and dismissed her! It's no wonder the office doesn't recognize me - why would I want to go down there and talk to them?
So today I noticed a Jeep in my friend Keri's parking spot. I know she's shopping for a car so I thought she'd gotten one. But then I noticed the old and beat up license plate. That was at about noon when I was watering the plants. I ran a few errands around 1:30p and noticed the back door to the Jeep open and a guy sitting in there. I thought maybe his kid had fallen asleep and so he was sitting with the baby while it napped. I came back after about 30 minutes and he was still sitting in the car with the door open. Hmm . . . Around 4p I took Chip to the pet hotel and the guy was still in the backseat. When I got back around 5p, still there . . .
So I grabbed my mailbox keys and stopped in the office to ask about the weird guy sitting in the car. The same woman who told me to have a heart over a smelly porch was in the office. She walked out of her office and had a view out the window of my little parking area and the Jeep. First she asked if I was looking for a place to live. I said, no. I started to tell her that I'd noticed the black Jeep and a guy sitting in the backseat all day long. And she said, oh, you live in 4-202? I don't see you very much. I said, yeah, I travel a lot. So that Jeep has been sitting here all day and there's a man sitting in the back. She interrupts - Is it under the carport? I said yes. Which one? Is it that one? And she points out mine and says, that's not under the carport. I said, I know, that's my car. The black one. And she says, oh, is he in your spot? Because that spot belongs to 1-202. I said, I know. I'm friends with them and that is not their car. Oh, she says, I know which spot that is. It belongs to an apartment over there, and she points somewhere else random. I almost started yelling! I said, I'm not concerned about the spot! I have never seen that car before and it's been parked there all day - there is a man sitting in the backseat! She said, has he gotten out? OK, what relevance is that?? But I said, no. He has the back door open, but has been sitting inside all day. It's starting to get dark and I think it's odd. Do you know anything about this situation? Finally! She says, well it might be a friend or relative of them, and again points to the random apartment. She says, I'll look into it. Thank you for letting me know.
OMG, it was so painful! If she would let you finish talking, it would conversations much shorter and people like her a lot better!
And speaking of weirdness in that office, my friend Keri found a typed note taped to her door a few months ago telling her that she's gorgeous. Her husband was in Iraq and she's on the first floor - understandably creeped out. She took the note to the office and the manager told her it was cute and just a funny love note and dismissed her! It's no wonder the office doesn't recognize me - why would I want to go down there and talk to them?
The management at my apartment complex is retarded! They don't listen to a damn thing you say. Remember last summer when I went into the office to complain that the dog downstairs, who was obviously sick, was pooping on the porch? And they'd just leave it there for days, letting the smell waft upstairs . . . And I got a lecture about how I'm cruel to animals. Um, is it cruel to ask the owner to
Monday, October 13, 2008
My Day
Wow! I did a remarkably good job on that last post. I was pretty tipsy when I wrote it. I did go through just now and make a few changes, but I'm impressed with myself!
Today was a little odd. I spent a significant amount of time cleaning. Mom and Sis are coming out at the end of the week and this place was a wreck! I was horrified by the amount of dust on my nightstand. That is so not like me! So I took a short afternoon nap that was interrupted by a call from my mom. I'm not sure I said a thing that was intelligible. After getting my brain back up and running, I ran a few errands. I had to drop a book off at the library, which was closed for Columbus Day. No big deal, I pulled up to the curbside drop box, bit it was PACKED. Not a thing more would fit in that box. So I parked illegally (there was no one else there) and walked over to the box at the door. STUFFED! I headed toward drop box #3, where another woman was trying to put some things in, but I could see from 20 feet away that it was full too. I called out to her asking if I was right and she said yes, were the others filled? I said, yeah. I guess I'll be back tomorrow! And she said, I don't live near here! And then she said, do you live near here? I said yes. And she walked over with her 4 items and said, would you mind bringing these back tomorrow? I don't live here. I checked them out for my mom who was in the hospital and she died. I can't get back here easily. OMG, my heart broke for her! So now I have 5 things to return tomorrow!
I'm pretty bad when it comes to current events. And there are whole days when I don't leave my apartment. After my nap, I flipped on the TV to see Breaking News Story! that involved a lot of smoke and some planes and the word Oceanside at the bottom. Oceanside is the next town north, where Camp Pendleton was. Once I was awake enough to catch on, I realized that there is a huge wildfire at the back gate of Pendleton, about 5 miles north of us. The planes were fighting the fire. A few base housing areas and one right outside the back gate had been evacuated. So when I left to run errands around 5:30p, I thought, eh, it's nothing. Perfect blue cloudless sky. And then I turned the corner. Smoke pouring off base and covering the sky to the north. It's weird when the fires are burning because the sky turns a little orange. Keeping my fingers crossed that it doesn't get as bad as last year!
Over the weekend, I had agreed via Facebook to go to the ridiculously hard class at the gym with my gym buddy Carrie. And then we were to do dinner afterward to catch up. So I toss my clothes on and run back out the door for class. And wouldn't you know it? Carrie wasn't there! I picked a spot behind a girl I hadn't seen before in the class. She had a lot a lot of belly flab. And her pants were stuck in her crack, letting me know she was wearing a thong. Well, I didn't have to wait long for confirmation. As soon as those first 5 and half minutes of squats started, I got view, after view, after view of half her butt and her navy thong. OMG, girl. I want to kill Carrie! I had no one to point it out to and laugh with! And that class is freaking hard! My pecs were literally twitching at the end. Of their own accord. I have never experienced pec twitches before and it's weird.
So after hobbling out of class, I drove 100 feet to That Pizza Place literally in the same strip mall as the gym. As I was limping into the restaurant to buy a salad, I passed two guys standing outside the doors. I didn't see their faces, but one had a long blonde ponytail and I swear he was sobbing. The other guy had his hand on pony guy's back. They were gone when I left a few minutes later. Huh.
OK, I need to moisturize my feet, take some heavy duty painkillers and crawl into bed.
Today was a little odd. I spent a significant amount of time cleaning. Mom and Sis are coming out at the end of the week and this place was a wreck! I was horrified by the amount of dust on my nightstand. That is so not like me! So I took a short afternoon nap that was interrupted by a call from my mom. I'm not sure I said a thing that was intelligible. After getting my brain back up and running, I ran a few errands. I had to drop a book off at the library, which was closed for Columbus Day. No big deal, I pulled up to the curbside drop box, bit it was PACKED. Not a thing more would fit in that box. So I parked illegally (there was no one else there) and walked over to the box at the door. STUFFED! I headed toward drop box #3, where another woman was trying to put some things in, but I could see from 20 feet away that it was full too. I called out to her asking if I was right and she said yes, were the others filled? I said, yeah. I guess I'll be back tomorrow! And she said, I don't live near here! And then she said, do you live near here? I said yes. And she walked over with her 4 items and said, would you mind bringing these back tomorrow? I don't live here. I checked them out for my mom who was in the hospital and she died. I can't get back here easily. OMG, my heart broke for her! So now I have 5 things to return tomorrow!
I'm pretty bad when it comes to current events. And there are whole days when I don't leave my apartment. After my nap, I flipped on the TV to see Breaking News Story! that involved a lot of smoke and some planes and the word Oceanside at the bottom. Oceanside is the next town north, where Camp Pendleton was. Once I was awake enough to catch on, I realized that there is a huge wildfire at the back gate of Pendleton, about 5 miles north of us. The planes were fighting the fire. A few base housing areas and one right outside the back gate had been evacuated. So when I left to run errands around 5:30p, I thought, eh, it's nothing. Perfect blue cloudless sky. And then I turned the corner. Smoke pouring off base and covering the sky to the north. It's weird when the fires are burning because the sky turns a little orange. Keeping my fingers crossed that it doesn't get as bad as last year!
Over the weekend, I had agreed via Facebook to go to the ridiculously hard class at the gym with my gym buddy Carrie. And then we were to do dinner afterward to catch up. So I toss my clothes on and run back out the door for class. And wouldn't you know it? Carrie wasn't there! I picked a spot behind a girl I hadn't seen before in the class. She had a lot a lot of belly flab. And her pants were stuck in her crack, letting me know she was wearing a thong. Well, I didn't have to wait long for confirmation. As soon as those first 5 and half minutes of squats started, I got view, after view, after view of half her butt and her navy thong. OMG, girl. I want to kill Carrie! I had no one to point it out to and laugh with! And that class is freaking hard! My pecs were literally twitching at the end. Of their own accord. I have never experienced pec twitches before and it's weird.
So after hobbling out of class, I drove 100 feet to That Pizza Place literally in the same strip mall as the gym. As I was limping into the restaurant to buy a salad, I passed two guys standing outside the doors. I didn't see their faces, but one had a long blonde ponytail and I swear he was sobbing. The other guy had his hand on pony guy's back. They were gone when I left a few minutes later. Huh.
OK, I need to moisturize my feet, take some heavy duty painkillers and crawl into bed.
Sunday, October 12, 2008
The Wizard Leaves Oz
Today I rode in a hot air balloon.
Crazy! I love balloons. I have loved hot air balloons from the day I saw the Disney Mickey balloon floating over our backyard in Manchester, Michigan at about the age of 3 or 4. It was definitely before Rachel was born. And no one else saw it. Just me! I don't think anyone ever believed me. But that balloon has soared with me for the last 24 years. And today, I got to ride in my very own hot air balloon!
My friend Dawn planned the perfect weekend. An afternoon of wine tasting in our own wine country, Temecula. Followed by a night at our friend Jessica's enormous new house in Fallbrook, the next town south. And then early, early, early in the morning a balloon ride over wine country. Sadly, I had to bow out of the sleep over because of my silly bird, who has to be let out of her cage a few times a day in order to do her business. But it was pretty cute to see her singing at her eggs at 4:45 this morning!
So we arrived right on time, all six of us, at Wilson Creek Winery, my parents' winery of choice. We unloaded into the ridiculously cold air - I swear to you it was 10 degrees! OK, maybe 45. But my tee, fleece and scarf were not enough. I was dying for my Midwest winter coat, fur-lined leather gloves, winter scarf and hat. We waited around on the gorgeous grounds while the pilots tested the weather, by letting a few helium-filled balloons go. Finally a test balloon was filled and lifted on the grounds and we were all loaded into vans and driven to a nearby field for take off.
As we were making our way, off roading, through a waist-high grassy field, we hit a rock. There was a silent pause as we waited to see if a wheel would fall off, and a subsequent forward movement to our place of lift off. There were about 20 of us in total, divided into 4 balloons. Tarps were laid out, the balloons were unfurled and the baskets hauled off the trailers onto their sides. Giant fans were pulled out of thin air and blown into the held-open mouths of the balloons. One-by-one, the four balloons were inflated until they were enormously huge lying on their sides with their sideways baskets. The fire was ignited and the hot air lifted the balloons slowly off the ground, righting the baskets as they lifted up. As the baskets righted, we were instructed to climb - quickly - into them for take off. A few Polaroids later and we were lifting off the ground!
I wasn't sure what to expect. Reading the waiver at 5:30 in the morning, I had thoughts of fire, falling and arrest for trespassing in my mind. But it was none of that. It was a slow fall away from the earth and a rise so gradual and easy that it wasn't at all nerve-wracking. Our pilot was able to spin us by opening and closing vents in the top of the balloons. We rose to the unthinkable height of 3,500 feet about the ground, 4,500 feet above sea level!, with a perfect view of the Pacific Ocean.
I have to back up at least an hour. As we were watching the test balloon and weather tests take their somewhat crazy test flights, the phrase, the rabbit died, came up. Way back when, doctors would inject the urine of possibly pregnant women into rabbits - if the rabbit died, the woman was pregnant. Thus the saying, the rabbit died. No idea how this came up. But it came up in relation to the Aerosmith song, Janey's got a Gun. And Agnes, one of the six of us, asked if Janey was pregnant. And I yelled out, "Are you retarded?!" There was a long pause. And then a lot of laughter. Followed by an apology by me. It was freaking early and I'd been up since 4:45a! My sensor wasn't exactly on. And after we'd laughed and talked through the song and made ample fun of both me for my un-P.C.-ness, and Agnes, for her naivete, we huddled together for warmth. Well, once we were up in that balloon, a lot of, "Are you retarded?!" jokes followed. We had a ball up in that balloon, looking down at the valley from several thousand feet,"seeing" our various deployed husbands on their various boats on the Pacific. When I shouted, "I'm going to die!" followed by a long pause and the clarification of, "Of hunger!" everyone laughed and Bill the pilot thanked me for my explanation.
Wouldn't you know it, there was a couple who arrived an hour late! Our balloon was split in half, with four of us girls on one side, two on the other with a married couple and his ridiculously annoying MIL. So we floated down to earth with a lot of interactions via walkie talkie with our ground crew. As we got within 10 feet of the ground, 3 guys in blue shirts came running out of a van that screeched to a halt. We were told to hang on tight, bend our knees and be prepared to fall over sideways! Thankfully our ground crew was able to hop on the corners and hold us upright while the late group climbed aboard quickly. We immediately flew back up to 4,500 feet so fast that we made our own wind! And man was it cold! A while more of floating around and we started to float back to earth.
We glided over a construction area with a big depression that had been dug for the foundation. We floated through the backyard of an early-rising man who happily waved at us while enjoying his coffee on his porch. We were warned that the second landing would be bumpy. After the addition of the extra couple, the extra two in our party climbed over the divider into our half of the basket. So now there were six of us tightly packed a hundred feet above the ground. The pilot told us all to face him, hold onto the rope inside the basket and bend our knees to prepare. The six of us made seats for each other as we sat on each other's legs, preparing for our landing. And bumpy it was! Our side was leather-lined - the skidding side. So should we tip, as is common, we would be lying on the bottom, heads in the dry dust. I sat hard on Jessica and held on tight while the van was slammed into park and our "landing gear" ran toward the basket and hopped on the corners. We bounced and skipped across 50 yards of dust before finally stopping. Whew! Our balloon flopped sideways and we all slowly stood. It was over!
After a ridiculously hilarious ceremony of stuffing the balloon back in its bag and jumping on the bag to compact everything, we piled back into the van for our ride back to Wilson Creek Winery where we had started.
We arrived back and dashed for the sunniest table under the gazebo. We had a basket of pre-packaged pastries and wine glasses ready for their filling of champagne. I had snuck a treat - orchid flowers that open with the bubbles poured on top of them - which I dropped into each of our glasses and one for our pilot, Bill. Bill stood up and told the story of the first hot air balloon, a doomed ride in Paris in the late 1700s. The first ride had risen over the town and crashed quickly outside of the town gates. The peasants saw the crashing, fiery balloon and thought, dragon! They attached and shredded the first hot air balloon, "saving" the two pilots. When the pilots went back to their king, retelling their story of "savior" the king suggested they take a drink with them on future flights to ease their passage into peasant-ville. The drink of the day? Champagne! Thus, a champagne toast following a balloon ride.
The Irish embraced the idea and added a "prayer" - i.e. a toast. And now there's a traditional toast that goes along with the champagne following a successful flight. In our case, topped off by a fruit-roll-up flavored flower in the bottom of our glass.
We all piled back into our cars and after a silly breakfast at a winery slightly down the rode, we all headed on our ways home. By the time I reached my apartment, my limbs were twitching. I felt physically exhausted, like I had had the hardest work-out of my life. I crawled up the stairs, let the bird stretch her wings and collapsed back in my bed, waking up enough hours after the stars had left the sky to be acceptable.
I have enjoyed the rest of the day browsing through my pictures, enjoying my pjs and finishing off a bottle of wine and a book. And now, it's time to collapse yet again into the heavenly comfort of my bed. And tonight, I will not require a lavender pillow, melatonin, a frozen eye mask, a regular eye mask, tingly lotion, jumping sheep, cold air or prayer. But the wine did help get me ready for my collapse! I can't wait to dream of my orange balloon . . .
Crazy! I love balloons. I have loved hot air balloons from the day I saw the Disney Mickey balloon floating over our backyard in Manchester, Michigan at about the age of 3 or 4. It was definitely before Rachel was born. And no one else saw it. Just me! I don't think anyone ever believed me. But that balloon has soared with me for the last 24 years. And today, I got to ride in my very own hot air balloon!
My friend Dawn planned the perfect weekend. An afternoon of wine tasting in our own wine country, Temecula. Followed by a night at our friend Jessica's enormous new house in Fallbrook, the next town south. And then early, early, early in the morning a balloon ride over wine country. Sadly, I had to bow out of the sleep over because of my silly bird, who has to be let out of her cage a few times a day in order to do her business. But it was pretty cute to see her singing at her eggs at 4:45 this morning!
So we arrived right on time, all six of us, at Wilson Creek Winery, my parents' winery of choice. We unloaded into the ridiculously cold air - I swear to you it was 10 degrees! OK, maybe 45. But my tee, fleece and scarf were not enough. I was dying for my Midwest winter coat, fur-lined leather gloves, winter scarf and hat. We waited around on the gorgeous grounds while the pilots tested the weather, by letting a few helium-filled balloons go. Finally a test balloon was filled and lifted on the grounds and we were all loaded into vans and driven to a nearby field for take off.
As we were making our way, off roading, through a waist-high grassy field, we hit a rock. There was a silent pause as we waited to see if a wheel would fall off, and a subsequent forward movement to our place of lift off. There were about 20 of us in total, divided into 4 balloons. Tarps were laid out, the balloons were unfurled and the baskets hauled off the trailers onto their sides. Giant fans were pulled out of thin air and blown into the held-open mouths of the balloons. One-by-one, the four balloons were inflated until they were enormously huge lying on their sides with their sideways baskets. The fire was ignited and the hot air lifted the balloons slowly off the ground, righting the baskets as they lifted up. As the baskets righted, we were instructed to climb - quickly - into them for take off. A few Polaroids later and we were lifting off the ground!
I wasn't sure what to expect. Reading the waiver at 5:30 in the morning, I had thoughts of fire, falling and arrest for trespassing in my mind. But it was none of that. It was a slow fall away from the earth and a rise so gradual and easy that it wasn't at all nerve-wracking. Our pilot was able to spin us by opening and closing vents in the top of the balloons. We rose to the unthinkable height of 3,500 feet about the ground, 4,500 feet above sea level!, with a perfect view of the Pacific Ocean.
I have to back up at least an hour. As we were watching the test balloon and weather tests take their somewhat crazy test flights, the phrase, the rabbit died, came up. Way back when, doctors would inject the urine of possibly pregnant women into rabbits - if the rabbit died, the woman was pregnant. Thus the saying, the rabbit died. No idea how this came up. But it came up in relation to the Aerosmith song, Janey's got a Gun. And Agnes, one of the six of us, asked if Janey was pregnant. And I yelled out, "Are you retarded?!" There was a long pause. And then a lot of laughter. Followed by an apology by me. It was freaking early and I'd been up since 4:45a! My sensor wasn't exactly on. And after we'd laughed and talked through the song and made ample fun of both me for my un-P.C.-ness, and Agnes, for her naivete, we huddled together for warmth. Well, once we were up in that balloon, a lot of, "Are you retarded?!" jokes followed. We had a ball up in that balloon, looking down at the valley from several thousand feet,"seeing" our various deployed husbands on their various boats on the Pacific. When I shouted, "I'm going to die!" followed by a long pause and the clarification of, "Of hunger!" everyone laughed and Bill the pilot thanked me for my explanation.
Wouldn't you know it, there was a couple who arrived an hour late! Our balloon was split in half, with four of us girls on one side, two on the other with a married couple and his ridiculously annoying MIL. So we floated down to earth with a lot of interactions via walkie talkie with our ground crew. As we got within 10 feet of the ground, 3 guys in blue shirts came running out of a van that screeched to a halt. We were told to hang on tight, bend our knees and be prepared to fall over sideways! Thankfully our ground crew was able to hop on the corners and hold us upright while the late group climbed aboard quickly. We immediately flew back up to 4,500 feet so fast that we made our own wind! And man was it cold! A while more of floating around and we started to float back to earth.
We glided over a construction area with a big depression that had been dug for the foundation. We floated through the backyard of an early-rising man who happily waved at us while enjoying his coffee on his porch. We were warned that the second landing would be bumpy. After the addition of the extra couple, the extra two in our party climbed over the divider into our half of the basket. So now there were six of us tightly packed a hundred feet above the ground. The pilot told us all to face him, hold onto the rope inside the basket and bend our knees to prepare. The six of us made seats for each other as we sat on each other's legs, preparing for our landing. And bumpy it was! Our side was leather-lined - the skidding side. So should we tip, as is common, we would be lying on the bottom, heads in the dry dust. I sat hard on Jessica and held on tight while the van was slammed into park and our "landing gear" ran toward the basket and hopped on the corners. We bounced and skipped across 50 yards of dust before finally stopping. Whew! Our balloon flopped sideways and we all slowly stood. It was over!
After a ridiculously hilarious ceremony of stuffing the balloon back in its bag and jumping on the bag to compact everything, we piled back into the van for our ride back to Wilson Creek Winery where we had started.
We arrived back and dashed for the sunniest table under the gazebo. We had a basket of pre-packaged pastries and wine glasses ready for their filling of champagne. I had snuck a treat - orchid flowers that open with the bubbles poured on top of them - which I dropped into each of our glasses and one for our pilot, Bill. Bill stood up and told the story of the first hot air balloon, a doomed ride in Paris in the late 1700s. The first ride had risen over the town and crashed quickly outside of the town gates. The peasants saw the crashing, fiery balloon and thought, dragon! They attached and shredded the first hot air balloon, "saving" the two pilots. When the pilots went back to their king, retelling their story of "savior" the king suggested they take a drink with them on future flights to ease their passage into peasant-ville. The drink of the day? Champagne! Thus, a champagne toast following a balloon ride.
The Irish embraced the idea and added a "prayer" - i.e. a toast. And now there's a traditional toast that goes along with the champagne following a successful flight. In our case, topped off by a fruit-roll-up flavored flower in the bottom of our glass.
We all piled back into our cars and after a silly breakfast at a winery slightly down the rode, we all headed on our ways home. By the time I reached my apartment, my limbs were twitching. I felt physically exhausted, like I had had the hardest work-out of my life. I crawled up the stairs, let the bird stretch her wings and collapsed back in my bed, waking up enough hours after the stars had left the sky to be acceptable.
I have enjoyed the rest of the day browsing through my pictures, enjoying my pjs and finishing off a bottle of wine and a book. And now, it's time to collapse yet again into the heavenly comfort of my bed. And tonight, I will not require a lavender pillow, melatonin, a frozen eye mask, a regular eye mask, tingly lotion, jumping sheep, cold air or prayer. But the wine did help get me ready for my collapse! I can't wait to dream of my orange balloon . . .
Saturday, October 11, 2008
Zzzzzz
So that first night was rough. I pulled out all the stops. My neck was stiff, so I used a relaxation cream I have that smells like peppermint and makes you all tingly. I cranked up the AC, read for a bit and finally fell sound asleep.
I couldn't haven't been asleep for more than an hour or two when I was wide awake. I insisted on staying in bed with the lights off and focusing on slowing my breathing. I tossed and turned and tossed some more. For some reason I thought it would be fun to count sheep. I had this whole elaborate story going. The Serta sheep were coming in my front door, trotting down the hallway to my bedroom and jumping over my bed whereupon I would count them. Then they piled up on top of each other in the 2 feet of space next to my bed and stared at me. Finally there were so many that I had to send them out the door to the balcony. Guess how high I got. 1,200. Still awake.
I tried a narrative, rolling pastures, but that was short lived. I prayed for a bit, but God got bored with me. I put on some more tingly cream. I switched pillows. I tried counting backwards, which is what my mom always made me do when I would wander into her room at night complaining I could sleep. She'd give me an assignment - count backward from 1,000 and if I was still awake, come back. I think I only went back once. It was painful! I refused to look at the clock, so I can only imagine how long I laid awake. I swear it was 36 hours! That alarm went off too early!
I couldn't haven't been asleep for more than an hour or two when I was wide awake. I insisted on staying in bed with the lights off and focusing on slowing my breathing. I tossed and turned and tossed some more. For some reason I thought it would be fun to count sheep. I had this whole elaborate story going. The Serta sheep were coming in my front door, trotting down the hallway to my bedroom and jumping over my bed whereupon I would count them. Then they piled up on top of each other in the 2 feet of space next to my bed and stared at me. Finally there were so many that I had to send them out the door to the balcony. Guess how high I got. 1,200. Still awake.
I tried a narrative, rolling pastures, but that was short lived. I prayed for a bit, but God got bored with me. I put on some more tingly cream. I switched pillows. I tried counting backwards, which is what my mom always made me do when I would wander into her room at night complaining I could sleep. She'd give me an assignment - count backward from 1,000 and if I was still awake, come back. I think I only went back once. It was painful! I refused to look at the clock, so I can only imagine how long I laid awake. I swear it was 36 hours! That alarm went off too early!
Thursday, October 9, 2008
Hi, my name is Lisa and I am a sleep-popper.
I've felt out of sorts lately. Just off. I got back from my marathon 2 week trip and let myself fall into a bad pattern - late nights, late mornings, laziness. (Though I have been really good about getting to the gym!) When I was in high school and college, I used to get these out of body experiences for several days at a time. I know it was completely sleep-deprivation. And I haven't quite felt like that lately, but just off. Not depressed, but not totally happy. I've fallen back into insomnia. I feel like I haven't been super productive at work. I threw my keys in the dumpster!
But then Wednesday hit. I got insane. All of a sudden I was in "on" mode. Lunch with a friend, a mani, meetings to schedule, a board member to coordinate with, a speech to write, birthday presents to buy and ship (to somewhere in the West Pacific), guests to prepare for, an egg-laying bird . . . you name it, I have to do it. Well shit, I can't NOT sleep!
Wednesday night, I'm pretty exhausted, so I figure, yes! I am totally good tonight. I crawl into bed at 11p, read until almost midnight, turn out the lights. At 12:30, I am still wide awake. Alright, I need to be up at 7a and ON. So I pop half an ambien. Out not too much longer. Morning comes, the snooze button gets lots of action and I drag myself up. I'm brushing my teeth when I have this memory pop into my head - I had woken up with leg twitches in the middle of the night and got up, and thought, I'll just take some more ambien. Wait, what?! I'm spitting, thinking, I totally dreamed that. I drag my drowsy body to the bed to make it and grab my water glass when, duh duh duh, I notice the open bottle. Oh yeah, I didn't dream that. Apparently I did wake up in the middle of the night and take more ambien. OMG, I am one of those people on TV who eat a loaf of bread without remembering it or drive their car somewhere in the middle of the night. Ahh!
Well, I have no time to deal right now. I've gotta get on the road for my first meeting. Amazing how little I remember of it! But I stumble through, hop in the car and head for OC.
And this is where it just gets awful. My first meeting is over coffee. I've already had a cup, but I'm not going to turn down a second. And as we all know, I pee a lot. So that meeting ends, I hit the road and head to South Coast Plaza for my next meeting, arriving early. And OMG, I have to pee. Now! I park and run into Saks. I sit down and ahh . . . As I stand up, I hear a splash and notice that the ties on the back of my shirt are hanging in the toilet. Yes, that's right. I have a pee shirt. Come on!
I rinse everything out at the sink but am not showing up to my next meeting in a pee shirt. Well thank the Lord I'm in Saks. A new shirt on my back, one ordered and a red dress later, and I'm off to my next meeting. Whew! No hitches.
So I am finally headed home, skipping a stop back in Saks for a desperately needed pair of Spanks. I'm listening to the Hobbit in the car and man, there is a lot of singing in that book! Have you ever noticed that? I hate songs in books because it's just words in italics and I have no idea what the tune is. Usually I just skip the songs. At least listening to the Hobbit I can hear someone sing the songs, though they all sound oddly similar.
So I spent the late afternoon unwinding and worrying about my mental health. The pills are up high. And I'm searching under my hair for that little "reset" button that needs a safety pin to push. It's like my brain just isn't screwed on tight enough to my spine right now. The impulses are all kinds of messed up.
So tonight I'm doing things the old-fashioned way. A nice dinner, 30 minutes at the gym, a cold lavender pillow, low lights and a Bailey's-laced hot chocolate. Good night!
But then Wednesday hit. I got insane. All of a sudden I was in "on" mode. Lunch with a friend, a mani, meetings to schedule, a board member to coordinate with, a speech to write, birthday presents to buy and ship (to somewhere in the West Pacific), guests to prepare for, an egg-laying bird . . . you name it, I have to do it. Well shit, I can't NOT sleep!
Wednesday night, I'm pretty exhausted, so I figure, yes! I am totally good tonight. I crawl into bed at 11p, read until almost midnight, turn out the lights. At 12:30, I am still wide awake. Alright, I need to be up at 7a and ON. So I pop half an ambien. Out not too much longer. Morning comes, the snooze button gets lots of action and I drag myself up. I'm brushing my teeth when I have this memory pop into my head - I had woken up with leg twitches in the middle of the night and got up, and thought, I'll just take some more ambien. Wait, what?! I'm spitting, thinking, I totally dreamed that. I drag my drowsy body to the bed to make it and grab my water glass when, duh duh duh, I notice the open bottle. Oh yeah, I didn't dream that. Apparently I did wake up in the middle of the night and take more ambien. OMG, I am one of those people on TV who eat a loaf of bread without remembering it or drive their car somewhere in the middle of the night. Ahh!
Well, I have no time to deal right now. I've gotta get on the road for my first meeting. Amazing how little I remember of it! But I stumble through, hop in the car and head for OC.
And this is where it just gets awful. My first meeting is over coffee. I've already had a cup, but I'm not going to turn down a second. And as we all know, I pee a lot. So that meeting ends, I hit the road and head to South Coast Plaza for my next meeting, arriving early. And OMG, I have to pee. Now! I park and run into Saks. I sit down and ahh . . . As I stand up, I hear a splash and notice that the ties on the back of my shirt are hanging in the toilet. Yes, that's right. I have a pee shirt. Come on!
I rinse everything out at the sink but am not showing up to my next meeting in a pee shirt. Well thank the Lord I'm in Saks. A new shirt on my back, one ordered and a red dress later, and I'm off to my next meeting. Whew! No hitches.
So I am finally headed home, skipping a stop back in Saks for a desperately needed pair of Spanks. I'm listening to the Hobbit in the car and man, there is a lot of singing in that book! Have you ever noticed that? I hate songs in books because it's just words in italics and I have no idea what the tune is. Usually I just skip the songs. At least listening to the Hobbit I can hear someone sing the songs, though they all sound oddly similar.
So I spent the late afternoon unwinding and worrying about my mental health. The pills are up high. And I'm searching under my hair for that little "reset" button that needs a safety pin to push. It's like my brain just isn't screwed on tight enough to my spine right now. The impulses are all kinds of messed up.
So tonight I'm doing things the old-fashioned way. A nice dinner, 30 minutes at the gym, a cold lavender pillow, low lights and a Bailey's-laced hot chocolate. Good night!
Sunday, October 5, 2008
The Art of Bird Maintenance
Wouldn't you know it? I'm celebrating Chip's celibacy when she lays another egg!
Come on, we spend $150 on her birth control. I guess it worked for 3 months. But that's freaking expensive for bird birth control! It's more than human birth control.
She's been playing with the paper towel on the bottom of her cage a lot lately. When she starts chewing it up, it means she's nesting. But I wasn't too concerned. She learned a new trick last week - she'd crawl under one end of the paper and come out on the other side.
So tonight I'm enjoying "Annie" (you know you love it too!) when I realize Chip's been under the paper for a while. I call her name a few times hoping to startle her out and she doesn't budge. So I crawl up on the couch and look under the paper where her tail's sticking out and all of a sudden - pop! - an egg appears.
If you don't know birds, or even female birds, you have no idea why it's a big deal. First, she can get really sick from regular egg laying. It uses up the calcium in her body and can make her bones too weak. And she can get so nutritionally deprived that she won't have enough strength to push the egg out. That's serious business. And then after the eggs - usually 4 - it's tough to deal with. Her cage has to be super clean. She won't poop in the cage with the eggs, so she has to be let out at least once a day to do her business. Which means paper lining the carpet around her cage. And she's super quiet, and really, pretty boring. As much as I complain, her chirping is a welcome sound.
I was complaining about her odd behavior to my mom today and she said, "Maybe she's just PMSing." If only she'd known how right she was!
Come on, we spend $150 on her birth control. I guess it worked for 3 months. But that's freaking expensive for bird birth control! It's more than human birth control.
She's been playing with the paper towel on the bottom of her cage a lot lately. When she starts chewing it up, it means she's nesting. But I wasn't too concerned. She learned a new trick last week - she'd crawl under one end of the paper and come out on the other side.
So tonight I'm enjoying "Annie" (you know you love it too!) when I realize Chip's been under the paper for a while. I call her name a few times hoping to startle her out and she doesn't budge. So I crawl up on the couch and look under the paper where her tail's sticking out and all of a sudden - pop! - an egg appears.
If you don't know birds, or even female birds, you have no idea why it's a big deal. First, she can get really sick from regular egg laying. It uses up the calcium in her body and can make her bones too weak. And she can get so nutritionally deprived that she won't have enough strength to push the egg out. That's serious business. And then after the eggs - usually 4 - it's tough to deal with. Her cage has to be super clean. She won't poop in the cage with the eggs, so she has to be let out at least once a day to do her business. Which means paper lining the carpet around her cage. And she's super quiet, and really, pretty boring. As much as I complain, her chirping is a welcome sound.
I was complaining about her odd behavior to my mom today and she said, "Maybe she's just PMSing." If only she'd known how right she was!
Tuesday, September 30, 2008
A List
I saw this on Hien's blog and stole it. If you know me, you know I like lists. But not as much as my sister . . .
four places that i go to over and over:
UPS store, grocery store, Wine Spot (my wine bar), gym
four people who email me (regularly):
Sadly, not my husband. My sister, the Stingerette book club, Carrie G, my uncle
four of my favorite places to eat:
Caldo Pomodoro, Evergreen (yes, in A2), Yellow Coyote, Hanna
four places i would rather be right now:
In bed, on a massage table, checking out Rachel's new digs, at Banana
four people i think will respond:
Rachel, Hien and Carrie G, my three regular responders :)
four TV shows i watch:
House, Frasier reruns, Project Runway, The Office . . . and many, many more
And now, I'm going to one of those four places. Good night!
four places that i go to over and over:
UPS store, grocery store, Wine Spot (my wine bar), gym
four people who email me (regularly):
Sadly, not my husband. My sister, the Stingerette book club, Carrie G, my uncle
four of my favorite places to eat:
Caldo Pomodoro, Evergreen (yes, in A2), Yellow Coyote, Hanna
four places i would rather be right now:
In bed, on a massage table, checking out Rachel's new digs, at Banana
four people i think will respond:
Rachel, Hien and Carrie G, my three regular responders :)
four TV shows i watch:
House, Frasier reruns, Project Runway, The Office . . . and many, many more
And now, I'm going to one of those four places. Good night!
Monday, September 29, 2008
Dumpster Diving
That's right, folks. Tonight, I went dumpster diving.
I was headed to the gym tonight and grabbed the garbage on my way out. Since the gym is, literally, only a block away, I left my purse at home. I grabbed my water bottle, my keys and the garbage and headed out. As I passed the car, I set my water bottle on the roof and walked over to the dumpster. I lifted the lid and tossed the bag in . . . and my keys. Yup. The bag ties got caught around my many keys and tugged them right out of my hand and into the pitch black dumpster.
I stood there dumbly for a few seconds. It was pitch black out there. My first thought was, "Go upstairs and get a flash light." Oh, but wait, my door is locked and my keys are in the dumpster. So I tossed the lid all the way up, jumped up and hung over the side at my waist. After groping around a bit, I caught up my bag and thank the Lord my keys were still tangled in the ties.
I hopped down, dusted myself off and walked out of the dumpster shack like nothing had happened.
I was headed to the gym tonight and grabbed the garbage on my way out. Since the gym is, literally, only a block away, I left my purse at home. I grabbed my water bottle, my keys and the garbage and headed out. As I passed the car, I set my water bottle on the roof and walked over to the dumpster. I lifted the lid and tossed the bag in . . . and my keys. Yup. The bag ties got caught around my many keys and tugged them right out of my hand and into the pitch black dumpster.
I stood there dumbly for a few seconds. It was pitch black out there. My first thought was, "Go upstairs and get a flash light." Oh, but wait, my door is locked and my keys are in the dumpster. So I tossed the lid all the way up, jumped up and hung over the side at my waist. After groping around a bit, I caught up my bag and thank the Lord my keys were still tangled in the ties.
I hopped down, dusted myself off and walked out of the dumpster shack like nothing had happened.
Thursday, September 25, 2008
Praying to the Non-Porcelain God for Relief!
This is probably TMI. But I've been contemplating it lately. I think increasing bathroom breaks during the night is directly proportional to aging. I longingly remember the days when I could sleep through the night without bathroom breaks. Then, shortly after college, came the new policy of a once-a-night pit stop. It's been a pretty standard policy for over 5 years now. (Except the nights when I get the pees, but that's a whole different topic and entry.)
It started in San Francisco a few weeks ago. I started to get up twice a night to pee. Twice! Now it isn't just at 3 or 4a, now it's at 2a and again at 5:30a. Do you have any idea how much it sucks? It is so painful to have to get out of bed, twice, to stumble to the bathroom and have the pool lights flood the room and give me an instant headache. If I've had any semblance of a bad dream, I have to worry about who's hiding behind the shower curtain and whether or not I have time to wash my hands and flush before running from the knife-wielding bad guy, and that's just too much thought process, twice, in a single night. And if I try to put it off until it's time to get up, I start having the dreams full of toilets. You know what I'm talking about.
There are only two options. 1. Bladder control decreases with age and by the time I'm 40 I'll be sleeping in the bathroom. 2. My body's trying to get me ready for a baby waking me up. Well, my answer to #2 is the reason I'm waiting for babies is so that Jon will be around to handle the midnight wake up calls. So come on, let me off the hook!
I suppose there could be a 3rd option. I have been stepping up my workouts since I've been home and thus drinking ridiculous amounts of water. But then, I guess my only fix is to workout less. And if Chip's required to lose some weight, I can't see letting myself off the hook.
Damn aging! My next book will be The Picture of Dorian Gray.
It started in San Francisco a few weeks ago. I started to get up twice a night to pee. Twice! Now it isn't just at 3 or 4a, now it's at 2a and again at 5:30a. Do you have any idea how much it sucks? It is so painful to have to get out of bed, twice, to stumble to the bathroom and have the pool lights flood the room and give me an instant headache. If I've had any semblance of a bad dream, I have to worry about who's hiding behind the shower curtain and whether or not I have time to wash my hands and flush before running from the knife-wielding bad guy, and that's just too much thought process, twice, in a single night. And if I try to put it off until it's time to get up, I start having the dreams full of toilets. You know what I'm talking about.
There are only two options. 1. Bladder control decreases with age and by the time I'm 40 I'll be sleeping in the bathroom. 2. My body's trying to get me ready for a baby waking me up. Well, my answer to #2 is the reason I'm waiting for babies is so that Jon will be around to handle the midnight wake up calls. So come on, let me off the hook!
I suppose there could be a 3rd option. I have been stepping up my workouts since I've been home and thus drinking ridiculous amounts of water. But then, I guess my only fix is to workout less. And if Chip's required to lose some weight, I can't see letting myself off the hook.
Damn aging! My next book will be The Picture of Dorian Gray.
Saturday, September 20, 2008
New Baubbles?
A couple more funny things.
I think I almost have every wedding present transported from Ann Arbor to Cali. There's at least one bowl still in the closet. After my last trip, my dad nicely packed up three bowls at their house and mailed them to me. This huge box arrived with everything in tip-top shape. And as I was unwrapping the three bowls and putting them away, I noticed a little jewelry box in the peanuts. I thought, well huh. What did my mom send me now? And I opened the little velvet box to find . . . nothing. Yeah, empty. WTF? Somehow they managed to toss an empty jewelry box into the peanuts and mailed it to me. I can only laugh.
One of my favorite stops on Armitage in Chicago is Lush. The world's best all-natural bath product store. I always stock up on solid moisturizers while I'm there. Perfect for finishing up a shower and skipping the annoying step of lotioning up. So I stop in after a meeting and am the only person in the store, meaning lots of personal attention. The very enthusiastic girl following me around tells me about their new war on liquid soap. Apparently liquid soap can suck bacteria in through it's little pump and then it just festers in there. Solid bars of soap are much cleaner and they dry, so bacteria can't hang out on them very well. Hmm . . . After making me smell every bar they have, and offering to let me try a few at the sink, I was sold. I bought a minty mound. But then I started thinking. So if soap can suck up bacteria, can't shampoo do the same thing? But by definition, soap should be clean. So do liquid soaps really grow bacteria, or are they unable to ? Hmm . . . Oh well, I'm giving it a shot!
Thursday, September 18, 2008
Back Home
It is so nice to finally be back at home after 12 days on the road. I picked up Chip at the vet on my way back from the airport. Here's a funny story. Chip had 3 pals - a small green bird about her size and 2 giant parrots. Turns out the parrots belong to Chip's vet. Good to know he boards his birds when he's out of town! Anyway, the green bird was incredibly noisy, singing all day long. And one of the parrots would constantly tell it to, "Shut up!" Chip stayed relatively quiet and just walked back and forth, back and forth.
So anyway, we come home, collapse, and immediately fall asleep. I woke up at an hour to pee then fell back onto the couch and was out again for another hour. I finally dragged myself up and decided I should get my suitcase out of the car. So I started searching for my keys - not in my purse, not on the counter, not on the table . . . what the heck? I finally listened to the nagging in the back of my head and opened the door. Sure enough, the keys were right where I had left them, in the lock. Good job, Lisa.
I saw Walrus man again today! Sorry Rachel, I was driving back from the gym (yes, you may laugh) and I didn't have my camera on me. Hopefully you'll see him next month.
I have been totally and utterly useless for the last two days. I suppose I should finally suck it up and get back into the swing of things, like working. It's tough, those 15 successive days of working and back-to-back meetings with all new people. At least I've gotten to the gym! And almost caught up on my DVRed TV.
So anyway, we come home, collapse, and immediately fall asleep. I woke up at an hour to pee then fell back onto the couch and was out again for another hour. I finally dragged myself up and decided I should get my suitcase out of the car. So I started searching for my keys - not in my purse, not on the counter, not on the table . . . what the heck? I finally listened to the nagging in the back of my head and opened the door. Sure enough, the keys were right where I had left them, in the lock. Good job, Lisa.
I saw Walrus man again today! Sorry Rachel, I was driving back from the gym (yes, you may laugh) and I didn't have my camera on me. Hopefully you'll see him next month.
I have been totally and utterly useless for the last two days. I suppose I should finally suck it up and get back into the swing of things, like working. It's tough, those 15 successive days of working and back-to-back meetings with all new people. At least I've gotten to the gym! And almost caught up on my DVRed TV.
Thursday, September 11, 2008
Another Story
So here's my latest. After my last meeting of the day, I hopped on the red line, got off at Fullerton to wait for the purple express. It doesn't come as often as every other train. No big deal. I stake out a spot on the platform and pull out my book. After a couple of brown and red trains go by, an older woman, probably late 50s or early 60s, says, "Are you waiting for purple train?" I said yes. She said, "I've been counting and 3 red line trains and 2 brown trains have gone by so far and no purple." I glanced at the schedule then at my watch. I said, "It looks like the next train should be here at 5:25, so another 7 minutes." Oh, she says. Goes back to counting, I go back to reading. The next two trains pull up and she interrupts me again, "Neither of them are purple!" I laugh awkwardly and ignore here. Another brown and she says, "This is ridiculous! I could be at Howard by now." I laugh again and read some more. One more red and she says, "I'm serious. This is ridiculous. I could be at Howard." Um, I truly don't care where you are. I said, "Trust me, it takes much longer to get there on the red line because there are some many more stops. It will still be shorter this way." "Yeah, but I could be there by now." OK lady, fine. You could be there.
Now it's been a few years since I've lived in the city so I don't remember all the ins and outs of the CTA. But another guy asks me about getting to Addison - red or brown. I tell him red and he says that's right, he can take the bus a little west from there. And the older lady jumps in and says, "Can he do that?" And I said, "What?" Seriously, you're talking to me again? She says, "Can he switch to the bus like that?" And I said sure, he has an hour to travel with his fare or maybe an extra 25 cents. And she says, "Yeah, but how?" I said, "With his ticket." "What ticket?" "The ticket you used to get into this train station." I can see the thought running through her head - shit, I threw it away. She's lying to me. "Oh. But my friend asked for a transfer on the bus earlier today and they said they don't give transfers." "Oh. I don't know," I respond. Go back to reading my book and thankfully she walks a few feet away. A minute later, a purple line pulls up. I can see the big purple sign. And the woman walks over and says, "A purple train is here. Finally!" I look at my watch. It's 5:26p. Thanks for pointing out the obvious. I watch where she heads and pick doors a car down. And then she turns around and follows me! I let her on first, watch her walk right and I shove myself into the huddle at the left, hoping that I can put enough people between us to stop the endless complaining and car counting . . .
Now it's been a few years since I've lived in the city so I don't remember all the ins and outs of the CTA. But another guy asks me about getting to Addison - red or brown. I tell him red and he says that's right, he can take the bus a little west from there. And the older lady jumps in and says, "Can he do that?" And I said, "What?" Seriously, you're talking to me again? She says, "Can he switch to the bus like that?" And I said sure, he has an hour to travel with his fare or maybe an extra 25 cents. And she says, "Yeah, but how?" I said, "With his ticket." "What ticket?" "The ticket you used to get into this train station." I can see the thought running through her head - shit, I threw it away. She's lying to me. "Oh. But my friend asked for a transfer on the bus earlier today and they said they don't give transfers." "Oh. I don't know," I respond. Go back to reading my book and thankfully she walks a few feet away. A minute later, a purple line pulls up. I can see the big purple sign. And the woman walks over and says, "A purple train is here. Finally!" I look at my watch. It's 5:26p. Thanks for pointing out the obvious. I watch where she heads and pick doors a car down. And then she turns around and follows me! I let her on first, watch her walk right and I shove myself into the huddle at the left, hoping that I can put enough people between us to stop the endless complaining and car counting . . .
Wednesday, September 10, 2008
Chicago
I've been keeping a list of stories to post. Chicago is never dull! So with the help of some naked Chardonnay (love it!), here goes . . .
I was headed to my first appointment of the day in Old Town. And as I was crossing Wells at North, just steps from Second City, a guy jogged past me, head to toe in workout gear, and juggling. Yeah, joggling AND juggling. That's an interesting trick I've never seen before.
So it's been a while since I've been on the El. I don't think I've ridden it since last August. Last time I was on the El, it was $1.75. Before I go any further, think back to the very early 90s hit "Ghost". Remember the old creepy ghost on the subway that teaches Patrick Swayze how to move things? OK, keep that guy in mind. Because he yelled at me. Yup. I'm walking up the steps when my train pulls up. I have a leftover CTA card that I pop in the machine to see how much it has. Perfect! $1.75. I run to turnstile and stick my card in, doesn't go. Stick it in again, nothing. I try the next one, staring at the train driver who is feet from me trying to get my desperation across. The creepy ghost guy, a CTA platform cleaner, walks up to the other side of the turnstile and gets in my face yelling, "It's upside down!" Got it. I stick it in the right way, start to walk and bam! My hips now have bruises. I stare down. The guy yells, "How much is on it?" I say, (we're inches apart) "$1.75!" And he yells, "It's $2.00!" All this yelling is with attitude, by the way. And I say, "It went up?" He yells, "It's been up!" So I dig up some attitude, get in his face, and say, "I don't live here." "Oh," he says and leaves me alone. Meanwhile, my train leaves. So now I'm all worked up, creeped out by the ghost guy and bruised.
Another CTA story. I was hopping from foot to foot, riding the red line north and desperately hoping some people would get off the train so I could sit down and rest my aching feet. Thankfully I was crammed into a corner by the doors. A guy, who I never actually saw, started yelling. "Excuse me. Can I have your attention please? My name is such and such and I am looking for a job. I was just released from prison and need to find a job. I have resumes with me and I need your business card to help me find a job. I also need some money so that I can get a CTA pass to get to interviews. So if you could please help me out. I refuse to steal, so I have to do it this way until I get back on my feet." On the one hand, I felt really badly for the guy. On the other, I was totally weirded out.
Today I had a meeting at a place I'd never heard of before in the Loop, Cafe Rom. (There's a line over the O so it's pronounced like Rome.) I got there early and staked out a table, working on a few thank you notes. It was super modern. The walls were faux (read: plastic wallpaper) red bricks. There were green plastic cubes that served as shelves. The chairs and tables were all white plastic oddities. The banquette I was sitting on was 8 feet wide (from knee to hip when you're sitting) so that I couldn't rest my back unless I literally laid down backward, which I did try. As I was trying to get through my only, and still unfinished, thank you note, the table next to me starts to get a little loud. It's this super jealous and controlling girl yelling at her boyfriend (of 9 months) about how he never thinks about her, he never calls to see how she is, days will go by and she doesn't hear from him. My favorite line was the guy: "You're jumping to conclusions and you're saying things that shouldn't even be said. You're saying the things you're thinking and they just shouldn't be said." That's a good argument, buddy.
I'm sure I'll have more!
I was headed to my first appointment of the day in Old Town. And as I was crossing Wells at North, just steps from Second City, a guy jogged past me, head to toe in workout gear, and juggling. Yeah, joggling AND juggling. That's an interesting trick I've never seen before.
So it's been a while since I've been on the El. I don't think I've ridden it since last August. Last time I was on the El, it was $1.75. Before I go any further, think back to the very early 90s hit "Ghost". Remember the old creepy ghost on the subway that teaches Patrick Swayze how to move things? OK, keep that guy in mind. Because he yelled at me. Yup. I'm walking up the steps when my train pulls up. I have a leftover CTA card that I pop in the machine to see how much it has. Perfect! $1.75. I run to turnstile and stick my card in, doesn't go. Stick it in again, nothing. I try the next one, staring at the train driver who is feet from me trying to get my desperation across. The creepy ghost guy, a CTA platform cleaner, walks up to the other side of the turnstile and gets in my face yelling, "It's upside down!" Got it. I stick it in the right way, start to walk and bam! My hips now have bruises. I stare down. The guy yells, "How much is on it?" I say, (we're inches apart) "$1.75!" And he yells, "It's $2.00!" All this yelling is with attitude, by the way. And I say, "It went up?" He yells, "It's been up!" So I dig up some attitude, get in his face, and say, "I don't live here." "Oh," he says and leaves me alone. Meanwhile, my train leaves. So now I'm all worked up, creeped out by the ghost guy and bruised.
Another CTA story. I was hopping from foot to foot, riding the red line north and desperately hoping some people would get off the train so I could sit down and rest my aching feet. Thankfully I was crammed into a corner by the doors. A guy, who I never actually saw, started yelling. "Excuse me. Can I have your attention please? My name is such and such and I am looking for a job. I was just released from prison and need to find a job. I have resumes with me and I need your business card to help me find a job. I also need some money so that I can get a CTA pass to get to interviews. So if you could please help me out. I refuse to steal, so I have to do it this way until I get back on my feet." On the one hand, I felt really badly for the guy. On the other, I was totally weirded out.
Today I had a meeting at a place I'd never heard of before in the Loop, Cafe Rom. (There's a line over the O so it's pronounced like Rome.) I got there early and staked out a table, working on a few thank you notes. It was super modern. The walls were faux (read: plastic wallpaper) red bricks. There were green plastic cubes that served as shelves. The chairs and tables were all white plastic oddities. The banquette I was sitting on was 8 feet wide (from knee to hip when you're sitting) so that I couldn't rest my back unless I literally laid down backward, which I did try. As I was trying to get through my only, and still unfinished, thank you note, the table next to me starts to get a little loud. It's this super jealous and controlling girl yelling at her boyfriend (of 9 months) about how he never thinks about her, he never calls to see how she is, days will go by and she doesn't hear from him. My favorite line was the guy: "You're jumping to conclusions and you're saying things that shouldn't even be said. You're saying the things you're thinking and they just shouldn't be said." That's a good argument, buddy.
I'm sure I'll have more!
Monday, September 1, 2008
Little Women
Little Women. I finally finished the book (a couple of months ago). It took a few years to plow through and in the end, it was a wonderful, lovely story that we're still reading more than 150 years later. Those kinds of books are fantastic.
But the dense story clogs up the emotion. When you sort through all of the minutiae and social commentary, the vignettes about the four sisters are wonderful.
I rented the latest version of the movie and watched it tonight, the one from the mid-90s with Christian Bale, Winona Ryder and Kirsten Dunst. I haven't seen the movie in years and chopped the movie into half itself in my memories. I was horrified by Amy's insolence as a child (Dunst) and hated her bitterly for marrying Laurie in the end. Meg I didn't bother to remember at all and I was creeped out my Beth's death speech (Claire Danes). And all I could really remember of Jo was her disgusting make out session with an old guy at the end.
Oh how wrong I was. I am so glad I finally read this fabulous tale. And while I loved the book, the movie was also amazing. This is one case where I can't say which I liked better - the movie or the book. The movie of course condenses the story, but aptly cuts the minutiae that bugged me so much in the book. All of the actors fully conveyed the emotions of their characters. Beth's death speech wasn't so creepy this time, but heartbreaking. And Jo's jealously when Meg gets married is so easy to empathize with. Amy marrying Laurie? Yeah, totally get it after reading the book and the movie does it justice. Susan Sarandon was Marmee and she was perfect, something I never would have expected.
I put the movie in expecting to be entertained and maybe slightly annoyed. I was amazed. The movie is going onto my all-time favorites list. I was crying at the hour mark and probably would have cried more except that Jon called and I had to pause the Christmas tearjerker. And from the one hour thirty-four minute mark, I sobbed. Death, babies, love . . . come on! Oh, but it was so good. I'm so glad I decided to rewatch it.
But the dense story clogs up the emotion. When you sort through all of the minutiae and social commentary, the vignettes about the four sisters are wonderful.
I rented the latest version of the movie and watched it tonight, the one from the mid-90s with Christian Bale, Winona Ryder and Kirsten Dunst. I haven't seen the movie in years and chopped the movie into half itself in my memories. I was horrified by Amy's insolence as a child (Dunst) and hated her bitterly for marrying Laurie in the end. Meg I didn't bother to remember at all and I was creeped out my Beth's death speech (Claire Danes). And all I could really remember of Jo was her disgusting make out session with an old guy at the end.
Oh how wrong I was. I am so glad I finally read this fabulous tale. And while I loved the book, the movie was also amazing. This is one case where I can't say which I liked better - the movie or the book. The movie of course condenses the story, but aptly cuts the minutiae that bugged me so much in the book. All of the actors fully conveyed the emotions of their characters. Beth's death speech wasn't so creepy this time, but heartbreaking. And Jo's jealously when Meg gets married is so easy to empathize with. Amy marrying Laurie? Yeah, totally get it after reading the book and the movie does it justice. Susan Sarandon was Marmee and she was perfect, something I never would have expected.
I put the movie in expecting to be entertained and maybe slightly annoyed. I was amazed. The movie is going onto my all-time favorites list. I was crying at the hour mark and probably would have cried more except that Jon called and I had to pause the Christmas tearjerker. And from the one hour thirty-four minute mark, I sobbed. Death, babies, love . . . come on! Oh, but it was so good. I'm so glad I decided to rewatch it.
Walrus Man
I've noticed a new guy around the neighborhood. No need to worry about an affair - he looks like a walrus. Yes, that's right. A walrus.
The first time I saw the guy, I thought my eyes were playing tricks on me. He was wearing shorts and running shoes and was jamming to an iPod. Looked like he was just finishing up a run. But streaming from around his mouth was one of the longest beards I've ever seen. Actually more of a fu manchu that a beard. Just around the mouth. It was completely gray while the long hair flowing behind him was brown.
The other day I was turning into my complex when I saw him again. And I was not mistaken. He literally looks like a walrus! If I knew his name, I'd nominate him for What Not to Wear.
Wednesday, August 27, 2008
Owwww
I went back to my ridiculously hard gym class today. The one where I lift weights for an hour straight and then slither home and avoid stairs for the next two days. I was looking forward to seeing my friend Carrie, who always goes to the class, and who I haven't seen in ages. And she wasn't there!
So I go in, find myself a spot at least 20 feet away from everyone on all sides. The class starts, I'm happily lifting away and a couple of people come in at the last minute. One woman, who's obviously been working out already, tosses her stuff down about 3 feet from me. And OMG. She smelled awful! There's only one woman I've ever met who smelled worse than her. This was AWFUL! I was holding my breath as much as possible and breathing through my mouth whenever I had to. And I slowly moved myself farther and farther away from her as the class went on. Eww . . .
Then there was a woman who was there was completely stuck in the 80s. She was wearing a striped scoop-neck tank, gray lycra shorts, and big billowing powder blue shorts over top. Her hair was in a ponytail with long side sweepy bangs and a skinny blue sweat band that was literally doing nothing - not holding a bit of hair back. Poor, poor woman.
Alright, back to trying to stretch my butt out.
So I go in, find myself a spot at least 20 feet away from everyone on all sides. The class starts, I'm happily lifting away and a couple of people come in at the last minute. One woman, who's obviously been working out already, tosses her stuff down about 3 feet from me. And OMG. She smelled awful! There's only one woman I've ever met who smelled worse than her. This was AWFUL! I was holding my breath as much as possible and breathing through my mouth whenever I had to. And I slowly moved myself farther and farther away from her as the class went on. Eww . . .
Then there was a woman who was there was completely stuck in the 80s. She was wearing a striped scoop-neck tank, gray lycra shorts, and big billowing powder blue shorts over top. Her hair was in a ponytail with long side sweepy bangs and a skinny blue sweat band that was literally doing nothing - not holding a bit of hair back. Poor, poor woman.
Alright, back to trying to stretch my butt out.
Tuesday, August 26, 2008
Random Thoughts
So I finished my first business trip for the season and have lots of stories racked up. And thoughts to share.
First, I am very unhappy with the redesign of InStyle magazine. I've been a subscriber for a few years now and always look forward to enjoying my style tips on the plane. Sadly, the new magazine is disorganized and a jumble of randomness. It now has a feature on famous people's jewels. They open up their jewelry boxes and talk about their favorite pieces. OK, Donatella's was vaguely interesting, but not her bragging tone. Kimora Lee's diamond Hello Kitty pendant? Come on . . . I think I finished looking at the mag in 45 minutes and left it on the plane. Definitely not renewing that one.
I went to a Chili's for dinner in a western suburb of Denver. As I was walking out, the first thing I noticed was the case of Michelob shoved under one of the benches outside the door. Then I saw a pretty trashy couple - overweight, hairy guy and belly shirt with flab hanging out on the lady - sitting on said bench smoking cigarettes. Next thing I saw were an abundance of kids running around the parking lot while the trashy couple occasionally yelled at them. I was nervous I was going to run over one of the kids when I was backing out, but I guess that wouldn't have been a tragedy. Um, trashy couple - Chili's also sells beer.
I hate people who can't wait their turn to leave the plane. It's pretty straightforward - we unload in order of seats. Yet again, as I was reaching up to get down my suitcase, a stream of people pushed past me so that I had no chance of getting down my suitcase and moving forward. The last woman to shove past me before I could get my bad down hit me pretty hard. I walked off the plane and headed for the escalator and the same woman stops short so I stumble, turns around and walks into me - again!
Speaking of plane oddities - why can't people lock the bathroom door? For about the 3rd time in 2 months, I opened the door on someone in the plane lavatory. What kills me is that the flight attendant always yells at me! There's a reason there's a lock on the door - it makes the door say "occupied" and lights up the occupied sign on the ceiling. If it isn't locked, why would I assume there's a person in there? The best flight attendant response was, "You know, you could knock." Right . . .
Anyway, it's nice to be home. Around for about 9 days before jetting off yet again. Time to get to the grocery story since I have no food!
First, I am very unhappy with the redesign of InStyle magazine. I've been a subscriber for a few years now and always look forward to enjoying my style tips on the plane. Sadly, the new magazine is disorganized and a jumble of randomness. It now has a feature on famous people's jewels. They open up their jewelry boxes and talk about their favorite pieces. OK, Donatella's was vaguely interesting, but not her bragging tone. Kimora Lee's diamond Hello Kitty pendant? Come on . . . I think I finished looking at the mag in 45 minutes and left it on the plane. Definitely not renewing that one.
I went to a Chili's for dinner in a western suburb of Denver. As I was walking out, the first thing I noticed was the case of Michelob shoved under one of the benches outside the door. Then I saw a pretty trashy couple - overweight, hairy guy and belly shirt with flab hanging out on the lady - sitting on said bench smoking cigarettes. Next thing I saw were an abundance of kids running around the parking lot while the trashy couple occasionally yelled at them. I was nervous I was going to run over one of the kids when I was backing out, but I guess that wouldn't have been a tragedy. Um, trashy couple - Chili's also sells beer.
I hate people who can't wait their turn to leave the plane. It's pretty straightforward - we unload in order of seats. Yet again, as I was reaching up to get down my suitcase, a stream of people pushed past me so that I had no chance of getting down my suitcase and moving forward. The last woman to shove past me before I could get my bad down hit me pretty hard. I walked off the plane and headed for the escalator and the same woman stops short so I stumble, turns around and walks into me - again!
Speaking of plane oddities - why can't people lock the bathroom door? For about the 3rd time in 2 months, I opened the door on someone in the plane lavatory. What kills me is that the flight attendant always yells at me! There's a reason there's a lock on the door - it makes the door say "occupied" and lights up the occupied sign on the ceiling. If it isn't locked, why would I assume there's a person in there? The best flight attendant response was, "You know, you could knock." Right . . .
Anyway, it's nice to be home. Around for about 9 days before jetting off yet again. Time to get to the grocery story since I have no food!
Monday, August 4, 2008
Catching Up
It's been awhile. Lots has happened in the last month. Jon deployed. I got the dreaded summer cold and everlasting cough. I swung through Ann Arbor for Art Fair and collected a few cool items. I am busily putting together my travel plans for the year and it's shaping up really well. I'm excited about all of the West Coast travel I'll be doing. And I'm incredibly busy playing with the other military widowed wives. Oh! And I've left Jon in the dust with our Harry Potter book club and am finally starting the final book! What's better than sleepless nights due to Harry Potter obsession?!
OK, so a few funny stories. The other day I went to the dermatologist. He has me on a few new meds and just before leaving, he reminded me to be obsessive with my sunscreen if I'm going to be out in the sun for more than 20 minutes because I'm sun sensitive now. I said, "I'm really good about sunscreen, but I'm not one to spend a lot of time in the sun." And he said, "I can see that! Well hey, pale is the new tan, right?" Sad when your dermatologist tells you you're pale.
So I've been sick for a few weeks now. My asthma has, sadly, kicked in and left me breathless for about 3 weeks. This means no cardio. Which means I'm getting the chubbies, and also getting stiff and sore from too much inactivity. So finally I gave in - and tried a yoga class. Sounds harmless, right? Wrong. I've spent many years being scared of yoga. I'm not into new age-y stuff. I don't even go in for modern dance. Classical music? Check. The Green movement? Uh-uh. Processed food? Check. Organic clothing? Come on, I'm going to wash it. Does it matter if there are chemicals on it now? Classic clothing? Yup. Boho? Can't do it. And really, who doesn't mistakenly believe that yoga is to weird music, holding odd poses for 10 minutes and looking around for your chakra or whatever?
So anyway, I had gotten so uncomfortable I had to work out. And low impact is the only option right now. I love Pilate's, but most of the classes are during the day. So yoga it was. I dug a mat out of the storage room and found a place in the dark room. Unfortunately, I chose a thick mat and the instructor wasn't OK with me using it. So she brought me a regular thing mat. Oops. The instructor started off talking about her two week retreat in central Cali and the cleanse she did. Okkkk . . . And then we started moving. And it was great! Most of the stuff I'd either done in Pilate's, or was similar to dance moves. I even started to sweat! Now great gobs, but my forehead was damp. Well, then the instructor told us to cleanse our internal organs with our breath. That's a weird thought. OK, keep going. And then we ended with the corpse pose, where you just relax on your back and focus on breathing. The instructor told us to "let yoga do its magic!" Well that's weird. But OK, I can handle three odd comments. The rest was great! I walked out of there on jelly legs I was so stretched out. I can't wait to do this again!
OK, so a few funny stories. The other day I went to the dermatologist. He has me on a few new meds and just before leaving, he reminded me to be obsessive with my sunscreen if I'm going to be out in the sun for more than 20 minutes because I'm sun sensitive now. I said, "I'm really good about sunscreen, but I'm not one to spend a lot of time in the sun." And he said, "I can see that! Well hey, pale is the new tan, right?" Sad when your dermatologist tells you you're pale.
So I've been sick for a few weeks now. My asthma has, sadly, kicked in and left me breathless for about 3 weeks. This means no cardio. Which means I'm getting the chubbies, and also getting stiff and sore from too much inactivity. So finally I gave in - and tried a yoga class. Sounds harmless, right? Wrong. I've spent many years being scared of yoga. I'm not into new age-y stuff. I don't even go in for modern dance. Classical music? Check. The Green movement? Uh-uh. Processed food? Check. Organic clothing? Come on, I'm going to wash it. Does it matter if there are chemicals on it now? Classic clothing? Yup. Boho? Can't do it. And really, who doesn't mistakenly believe that yoga is to weird music, holding odd poses for 10 minutes and looking around for your chakra or whatever?
So anyway, I had gotten so uncomfortable I had to work out. And low impact is the only option right now. I love Pilate's, but most of the classes are during the day. So yoga it was. I dug a mat out of the storage room and found a place in the dark room. Unfortunately, I chose a thick mat and the instructor wasn't OK with me using it. So she brought me a regular thing mat. Oops. The instructor started off talking about her two week retreat in central Cali and the cleanse she did. Okkkk . . . And then we started moving. And it was great! Most of the stuff I'd either done in Pilate's, or was similar to dance moves. I even started to sweat! Now great gobs, but my forehead was damp. Well, then the instructor told us to cleanse our internal organs with our breath. That's a weird thought. OK, keep going. And then we ended with the corpse pose, where you just relax on your back and focus on breathing. The instructor told us to "let yoga do its magic!" Well that's weird. But OK, I can handle three odd comments. The rest was great! I walked out of there on jelly legs I was so stretched out. I can't wait to do this again!
Thursday, July 3, 2008
The Ghetto is Next Door
Jon and I walked to the movie theater the other night. That's right, we walked! We're trying to be greener. :) And it's only a block and a half . . .
The theater down the street is pretty ghetto. It is across the street from the completely ghetto Carlsbad mall. It's like what Arborland used to be. We bought our tickets, picked up some drinks and wandered into the "Wanted" theater. A couple was in the row in front of us and a single man was in front of them. The couple was joking and laughing through the previews. No big deal - who doesn't? And as the lights went down, the single guy turned around and yelled at the couple to stop talking, were they going to be making noise all the way through the movie too? And the man in the couple said they'd quiet down when the movie started. And single guy stood up and said, "Do you want to take this outside?" Whoa! Does that seem like an appropriate response? So couple guy said, in his whiny voice, "I said we'd be quiet." I was a little afraid I'd have to duck to miss some punches!
In other news, the movie was great. It's based on a graphic novel and a lot of the shots and filming techniques make you see the line drawn pages in front of your face. Violent, yes. Funny, yes. Interesting, yes. We enjoyed it!
The theater down the street is pretty ghetto. It is across the street from the completely ghetto Carlsbad mall. It's like what Arborland used to be. We bought our tickets, picked up some drinks and wandered into the "Wanted" theater. A couple was in the row in front of us and a single man was in front of them. The couple was joking and laughing through the previews. No big deal - who doesn't? And as the lights went down, the single guy turned around and yelled at the couple to stop talking, were they going to be making noise all the way through the movie too? And the man in the couple said they'd quiet down when the movie started. And single guy stood up and said, "Do you want to take this outside?" Whoa! Does that seem like an appropriate response? So couple guy said, in his whiny voice, "I said we'd be quiet." I was a little afraid I'd have to duck to miss some punches!
In other news, the movie was great. It's based on a graphic novel and a lot of the shots and filming techniques make you see the line drawn pages in front of your face. Violent, yes. Funny, yes. Interesting, yes. We enjoyed it!
Saturday, June 21, 2008
The End
So our honeymoon is almost over. All we have left is the trip home. Rolling out of bed at 4a was tough. We were picked up by another unprofessional driver in an Econoline van. He put our luggage on the first bench seat and put us in the 2nd bench so that we were about 10 feet away from him. Odd. It was already about 120% humidity and there was no air in the van. Jon asked him to turn it on a little and he turned it on high - and left it that way for the 30 minute drive. Then we arrive at the airport and Jon pulls out his credit card, as we'd established with the last driver that we could pay that way. And he looked at us like we were nuts. The office isn't open right now, I can't call in your credit card. Can we call it in later? How am I supposed to get paid? I need to get paid now. After a few minutes of this banter, I turned to Jon and told him to just fork over some cash and be done. Argh! Never using this driving service again.
So we drag our bags inside and grab an open kiosk to check in. Only the computer can't find us. Not by swiping my credit card, not my confirmation number, not by flight number, not by city of final destination . . . OK, it's 5a and I'm pissed. We get sent to another line to wait for a woman to check us in. First she asks for my confirmation number, so I reach into my bag for my planner and she says, can I have your ID? So then I open the wallet in my hand and she's staring at me like, hurry it up. Which do you want?? Five minutes of no talking and she wants our bags. I had two carry-ons, one checked. Jon has one carry-on, two checked. But one of his checked is a duffel with our dirty clothes. So the lady says, it's $25 for the second bag. I turned to Jon and said, that's ridiculous. Just carry the duffel on. Jon says no, and the lady, who has now had our IDs, both military, for at least 5 minutes says, I'm going to comp it because he's military. Now you're going to comp it? It's not like you just found out he's military! Are you charging us or not? Now I'm exhausted and really steamed. We're supposed to drag our bags around the corner and drop them off at one of the old-school scanners in the lobby. So we take our bags to the scanner and it's roped off with the world's giantest pile of checked bags I've ever seen. There are a few agents behind the ropes wiping the bags down with those cloths that tell you if they're contaminated with bomb materials. And one lady is yelling, drop your bag and keep moving, over and over. OMG! My blood is boiling.
We make it to the gate area and, as I've just bought my Northwest Club membership, we head for the Delta Crown Room to spend the extra hour+. I haven't gotten my card in the mail yet, so I show the woman my purchase receipt. And she insists on calling the Northwest Club to confirm my membership. What is up with people second guessing me today? Finally we get checked in and I wander off to a lonely corner, pull out my mP3 player and put on Joshua Radin. A few minutes with my coffee and my chill music and I'm finally calmed down. And I've found a new Southern glamour magazine in the Crown Room that is hilarious. I read twice that hairnets are good accessories!
We make it to LAX and we have to get a shuttle bus to the commuter terminal. The saddest terminal I've ever seen in my life. It's the size of our apartment, all of the gates are the same number, and the jet way is one of those plastic tunnels you can buy for kids for $20. We figure out where to get the shuttle bus, and the doors out to the runway are roped off, there's a chair with no one in it and that's it. It's in between two other doors. After standing there for 15 minutes and getting no one to pay any attention to us, Jon checks with one of the 6 gate agents 10 feet away from us. Oh, the bus comes every fifteen minutes. Just wait there. A few more people gather, we wait, and wait, and wait. 45 minutes goes by! Finally our bus driver arrives, speaking about 4 works of English. He tells us to wait there and disappears. Another 15 minutes go by and he's just gone! Finally I see him escorting a young woman off of the plane at the next gate. He walks her to the desk agent, stands with her for a while. OK, come on! It's been an hour, our plane is supposed to leave in 15 minutes and there are now a good 10 of us staring at the bus driver 15 feet away. A gate agent across the desk from him comes on the PA system, turns to face us, and starts talking. We can't hear a word she's saying. We're all making we-can't-hear-you sign language, but she ignores us. So I walk over to say, excuse me, we can't hear you. What did you say? And she repeats the whole message about flight number yada yada . . . she's not talking to me, she's repeating her announcement. Thanks, lady. And when she finishes, I say, yeah, good. We've been waiting for an hour. The bus driver is about 1 foot from me and hears everything. And I storm away.
We make it to our ghetto gate, get in line to board, and the woman takes one look at our tickets, printed on Delta paper, and tells us to go see the gate agent. Um, OK. So the gate agent looks at our tickets (it's an American Eagle flight), says Oooh, and throws our tickets away. Then she prints another set of identical tickets, on American Eagle paper, and hands them over. Literally, exactly the same!! Whatever. Finally on the 10 foot by 4 foot plane and we're out, asleep. For the full 35 minute flight to San Diego.
Wait, it's not over yet! We have to sit on the plane for about 10 minutes before we can get off. And our windows overlook the baggage unload area. A woman is standing at the bottom of the conveyor belt grabbing the bags as they come down and tossing them on a truck. Our bags are there! After the insanity in Orlando, we weren't sure if our luggage would be arriving. Meanwhile, the lady is missing about every 3rd bag, letting them drop 3 feet to the pavement. Good thing we have nothing breakable in there!
We finally get off, grab our bags and head out to the curb to get the shuttle bus to long term parking. Because we came into the commuter terminal, we have to call to request a pick up. But I've never waited for more than 10 minutes, so I'm not worried. Well, 30 minutes later, Jon calls back. The same Hertz driver came by about 15 times and as we were the only two waiting, he didn't even bother to stop. He knew us well. FINALLY our shuttle shows up. We get to our car. And on the way there, we pass 2 other shuttles and then see 3 parked in the long term lot with drivers sitting on them, waiting for people. And no one could come pick us up??
So we finally make it home, and there's an envelope stuffed into our door. Remember the rent check craziness? I open the envelope and it's our rent check. Apparently the second time around, Jon forgot to add the extra $50 to the $1800 and the office wouldn't take our check. There's a letter included telling us we have 3 days to pay our rent or be evicted. And there's a message on our answering machine. OK, it's now June 8th. I know they have our cell phone numbers on file because I had to complete an extra form with them and I kept a copy. Did they call them? No. Did they take any action? No. OMG. I hate our management. I send Jon down with a 3rd rent check and he tells the property manager that we have cell phones and in the future, she should call us on them. Come on, lady!
Meanwhile, I've started the laundry, changed into comfy clothes and am completely collapsed on the couch, where I remain for rest of the day. Ahh, it's nice to be home.
So we drag our bags inside and grab an open kiosk to check in. Only the computer can't find us. Not by swiping my credit card, not my confirmation number, not by flight number, not by city of final destination . . . OK, it's 5a and I'm pissed. We get sent to another line to wait for a woman to check us in. First she asks for my confirmation number, so I reach into my bag for my planner and she says, can I have your ID? So then I open the wallet in my hand and she's staring at me like, hurry it up. Which do you want?? Five minutes of no talking and she wants our bags. I had two carry-ons, one checked. Jon has one carry-on, two checked. But one of his checked is a duffel with our dirty clothes. So the lady says, it's $25 for the second bag. I turned to Jon and said, that's ridiculous. Just carry the duffel on. Jon says no, and the lady, who has now had our IDs, both military, for at least 5 minutes says, I'm going to comp it because he's military. Now you're going to comp it? It's not like you just found out he's military! Are you charging us or not? Now I'm exhausted and really steamed. We're supposed to drag our bags around the corner and drop them off at one of the old-school scanners in the lobby. So we take our bags to the scanner and it's roped off with the world's giantest pile of checked bags I've ever seen. There are a few agents behind the ropes wiping the bags down with those cloths that tell you if they're contaminated with bomb materials. And one lady is yelling, drop your bag and keep moving, over and over. OMG! My blood is boiling.
We make it to the gate area and, as I've just bought my Northwest Club membership, we head for the Delta Crown Room to spend the extra hour+. I haven't gotten my card in the mail yet, so I show the woman my purchase receipt. And she insists on calling the Northwest Club to confirm my membership. What is up with people second guessing me today? Finally we get checked in and I wander off to a lonely corner, pull out my mP3 player and put on Joshua Radin. A few minutes with my coffee and my chill music and I'm finally calmed down. And I've found a new Southern glamour magazine in the Crown Room that is hilarious. I read twice that hairnets are good accessories!
We make it to LAX and we have to get a shuttle bus to the commuter terminal. The saddest terminal I've ever seen in my life. It's the size of our apartment, all of the gates are the same number, and the jet way is one of those plastic tunnels you can buy for kids for $20. We figure out where to get the shuttle bus, and the doors out to the runway are roped off, there's a chair with no one in it and that's it. It's in between two other doors. After standing there for 15 minutes and getting no one to pay any attention to us, Jon checks with one of the 6 gate agents 10 feet away from us. Oh, the bus comes every fifteen minutes. Just wait there. A few more people gather, we wait, and wait, and wait. 45 minutes goes by! Finally our bus driver arrives, speaking about 4 works of English. He tells us to wait there and disappears. Another 15 minutes go by and he's just gone! Finally I see him escorting a young woman off of the plane at the next gate. He walks her to the desk agent, stands with her for a while. OK, come on! It's been an hour, our plane is supposed to leave in 15 minutes and there are now a good 10 of us staring at the bus driver 15 feet away. A gate agent across the desk from him comes on the PA system, turns to face us, and starts talking. We can't hear a word she's saying. We're all making we-can't-hear-you sign language, but she ignores us. So I walk over to say, excuse me, we can't hear you. What did you say? And she repeats the whole message about flight number yada yada . . . she's not talking to me, she's repeating her announcement. Thanks, lady. And when she finishes, I say, yeah, good. We've been waiting for an hour. The bus driver is about 1 foot from me and hears everything. And I storm away.
We make it to our ghetto gate, get in line to board, and the woman takes one look at our tickets, printed on Delta paper, and tells us to go see the gate agent. Um, OK. So the gate agent looks at our tickets (it's an American Eagle flight), says Oooh, and throws our tickets away. Then she prints another set of identical tickets, on American Eagle paper, and hands them over. Literally, exactly the same!! Whatever. Finally on the 10 foot by 4 foot plane and we're out, asleep. For the full 35 minute flight to San Diego.
Wait, it's not over yet! We have to sit on the plane for about 10 minutes before we can get off. And our windows overlook the baggage unload area. A woman is standing at the bottom of the conveyor belt grabbing the bags as they come down and tossing them on a truck. Our bags are there! After the insanity in Orlando, we weren't sure if our luggage would be arriving. Meanwhile, the lady is missing about every 3rd bag, letting them drop 3 feet to the pavement. Good thing we have nothing breakable in there!
We finally get off, grab our bags and head out to the curb to get the shuttle bus to long term parking. Because we came into the commuter terminal, we have to call to request a pick up. But I've never waited for more than 10 minutes, so I'm not worried. Well, 30 minutes later, Jon calls back. The same Hertz driver came by about 15 times and as we were the only two waiting, he didn't even bother to stop. He knew us well. FINALLY our shuttle shows up. We get to our car. And on the way there, we pass 2 other shuttles and then see 3 parked in the long term lot with drivers sitting on them, waiting for people. And no one could come pick us up??
So we finally make it home, and there's an envelope stuffed into our door. Remember the rent check craziness? I open the envelope and it's our rent check. Apparently the second time around, Jon forgot to add the extra $50 to the $1800 and the office wouldn't take our check. There's a letter included telling us we have 3 days to pay our rent or be evicted. And there's a message on our answering machine. OK, it's now June 8th. I know they have our cell phone numbers on file because I had to complete an extra form with them and I kept a copy. Did they call them? No. Did they take any action? No. OMG. I hate our management. I send Jon down with a 3rd rent check and he tells the property manager that we have cell phones and in the future, she should call us on them. Come on, lady!
Meanwhile, I've started the laundry, changed into comfy clothes and am completely collapsed on the couch, where I remain for rest of the day. Ahh, it's nice to be home.
Friday, June 20, 2008
Day 6
Saturday, June 7th
Jon and I are out of underwear. Multiple showers and wardrobe changes have impacted our stores. Or drawers. Ha ha! I rolled out, gathered up a few things and headed to the laundry room. It was pleasant, actually, reading my book and enjoying my iced coffee while waiting for the dryer to ding. After getting a few things clean, we packed up our bags a bit and then headed out to MGM.
Our first stop? Indiana Jones Stunt Spectacular, at Jon's insistent request. But wait - what's going on? There are Star Wars signs everywhere and everyone is dressed in a Star Wars costume. It's one of 6 Star Wars weekends! Cast members are making appearances and signing books and autographs, characters are having picture opps, kids are getting lessons in how to be effective Jedi warriors with their lightsabers, Disney characters are wandering around in Star Wars costumes (imagine Donald as a storm trooper) . . . it was insane and a lot of fun! We saw Darth Mal stare down a 6 year old boy and lots of lightsaber battles. R2D2 even rolled by. And could not forget about his lightsaber. We grabbed lunch and then walked over to the Star Tours gift shop and checked out the line. No, Jon didn't want to make a lightsaber. Are you sure? Yes.
So we checked out the Back Lot Tour. Big disappointment. The line winds through a big prop warehouse that was actually really cool, but there was no one in line and they just ushered us right through. We were seated in literally the very last seat of the loooong tram. They've big time cut out stuff from the ride. You used to go through a neighborhood of house fronts from TV shows. That's no more. And the narrator was about a 1/4 mile ahead of us so we were never looking at what he was talking about. Then we went into Catastrophe Canyon where things blow up and there's a flash flood. The water splashing at us wasn't bad. But because we were in the last seat, the water that had collected on the roof rolled down into the seat as they were rocking us back and forth. Result? Soaked, and I mean soaked, butt. Jon called it swamp butt. Completely. I spent the next two hours waddling, trying to keep my wet butt cheeks from rubbing together. I was pissed. Won't be doing that ride again. Try as we might to find some shorts to buy for me to replace my wet capris, the only thing available was sweatpants shorts. In 95 degree heat, it wasn't appealing. I'd rather be wet. But a run punch with an LED ice cube and a pretzel made me feel much better.
We did learn, however, a cool thing about Davy Jones in the Pirates trilogy. The guy who plays him, Bill Nye (from Shawn of the Dead and Love Actually fame) didn't have to wear insane make-up with tentacles all over. Little sensors were placed on various places on his face to measure his movements and then the entire tentacle face was created later through computer imaging. Cool.
We trudged our wet butts over to the new 4D Toy Story ride. The line was 60 minutes long and no Fast Passes are available on Star Wars weekends. But the area was pretty cool. Barrels of monkeys hanging over the street, the cute little Pixar lamp on top of the lamp posts, you get the idea. I guess you get 3D glasses and shoot at enemy invaders. Could be fun. So instead we headed to check out the car show. It's all stunt driving and was actually amazing. There was a lot of backward driving and stunts - and it turns out they had rebuilt the interior of one of the cars so that the driver was actually sitting in the trunk facing out the back. After another walk-by of the lightsaber line (Jon passed, again) we went to the Brown Derby for our dinner reservations. Sadly, the pretzels had put us over the top and we weren't too hungry. But we choked down some of the great food and got our tickets to Fantasmic. Our three course meal came with preferred seating for the water and laser show at sunset. I've seen it, though Jon hasn't, and it's a pretty cool show. But we were both exhausted and ambivalent.
We decided to wander a bit, try to kill some time (we still had about 3 hours before the show started) and see if we'd get a second wind. Another walk by the Toy Story ride gave similar results. So we walked to the Star Tours store one last time. During dinner, Jon had decided a self-built lightsaber would be cooler than an Indiana Jones hat. Especially since they don't sell whips. So we hopped on line with a million obnoxious little boys and their parents. Two poor girls were patiently helping each kid individually decide which handle, which color, which everything as he put his weapon together. Finally it was Jon's turn. And some short chubby lady grabbed her three boys and shoved them in front of Jon and grabbed one of the women by the arm and told her they were next. I spoke up and said, no, I think you're wrong. So Jon got some one on one attention, which I stuck my camera in short chubbo's face to take pictures of Jon. I couldn't stop laughing! And boy was he pleased.
After a little more wandering around, we finally decided we had to go. We were tired and not excited about hanging around the park for another 2 hours. On the way out, we stopped a young couple from Great Britain and handed off our preferred tickets. They were pretty excited and we were ready to end out trip. Our ridiculously ghetto bus showed up a few minutes later and after a change to bathing suits, we went down to the pool for a dip and a beer. Ah, the perfect ending.
While I was in the shower rinsing off, I heard some odd noises coming from the bedroom. When I walked out there, Jon was in his pjs swinging his noise-making lightsaber around "fighting the bad guys." Yup, it's time to go home.
Jon and I are out of underwear. Multiple showers and wardrobe changes have impacted our stores. Or drawers. Ha ha! I rolled out, gathered up a few things and headed to the laundry room. It was pleasant, actually, reading my book and enjoying my iced coffee while waiting for the dryer to ding. After getting a few things clean, we packed up our bags a bit and then headed out to MGM.
Our first stop? Indiana Jones Stunt Spectacular, at Jon's insistent request. But wait - what's going on? There are Star Wars signs everywhere and everyone is dressed in a Star Wars costume. It's one of 6 Star Wars weekends! Cast members are making appearances and signing books and autographs, characters are having picture opps, kids are getting lessons in how to be effective Jedi warriors with their lightsabers, Disney characters are wandering around in Star Wars costumes (imagine Donald as a storm trooper) . . . it was insane and a lot of fun! We saw Darth Mal stare down a 6 year old boy and lots of lightsaber battles. R2D2 even rolled by. And could not forget about his lightsaber. We grabbed lunch and then walked over to the Star Tours gift shop and checked out the line. No, Jon didn't want to make a lightsaber. Are you sure? Yes.
So we checked out the Back Lot Tour. Big disappointment. The line winds through a big prop warehouse that was actually really cool, but there was no one in line and they just ushered us right through. We were seated in literally the very last seat of the loooong tram. They've big time cut out stuff from the ride. You used to go through a neighborhood of house fronts from TV shows. That's no more. And the narrator was about a 1/4 mile ahead of us so we were never looking at what he was talking about. Then we went into Catastrophe Canyon where things blow up and there's a flash flood. The water splashing at us wasn't bad. But because we were in the last seat, the water that had collected on the roof rolled down into the seat as they were rocking us back and forth. Result? Soaked, and I mean soaked, butt. Jon called it swamp butt. Completely. I spent the next two hours waddling, trying to keep my wet butt cheeks from rubbing together. I was pissed. Won't be doing that ride again. Try as we might to find some shorts to buy for me to replace my wet capris, the only thing available was sweatpants shorts. In 95 degree heat, it wasn't appealing. I'd rather be wet. But a run punch with an LED ice cube and a pretzel made me feel much better.
We did learn, however, a cool thing about Davy Jones in the Pirates trilogy. The guy who plays him, Bill Nye (from Shawn of the Dead and Love Actually fame) didn't have to wear insane make-up with tentacles all over. Little sensors were placed on various places on his face to measure his movements and then the entire tentacle face was created later through computer imaging. Cool.
We trudged our wet butts over to the new 4D Toy Story ride. The line was 60 minutes long and no Fast Passes are available on Star Wars weekends. But the area was pretty cool. Barrels of monkeys hanging over the street, the cute little Pixar lamp on top of the lamp posts, you get the idea. I guess you get 3D glasses and shoot at enemy invaders. Could be fun. So instead we headed to check out the car show. It's all stunt driving and was actually amazing. There was a lot of backward driving and stunts - and it turns out they had rebuilt the interior of one of the cars so that the driver was actually sitting in the trunk facing out the back. After another walk-by of the lightsaber line (Jon passed, again) we went to the Brown Derby for our dinner reservations. Sadly, the pretzels had put us over the top and we weren't too hungry. But we choked down some of the great food and got our tickets to Fantasmic. Our three course meal came with preferred seating for the water and laser show at sunset. I've seen it, though Jon hasn't, and it's a pretty cool show. But we were both exhausted and ambivalent.
We decided to wander a bit, try to kill some time (we still had about 3 hours before the show started) and see if we'd get a second wind. Another walk by the Toy Story ride gave similar results. So we walked to the Star Tours store one last time. During dinner, Jon had decided a self-built lightsaber would be cooler than an Indiana Jones hat. Especially since they don't sell whips. So we hopped on line with a million obnoxious little boys and their parents. Two poor girls were patiently helping each kid individually decide which handle, which color, which everything as he put his weapon together. Finally it was Jon's turn. And some short chubby lady grabbed her three boys and shoved them in front of Jon and grabbed one of the women by the arm and told her they were next. I spoke up and said, no, I think you're wrong. So Jon got some one on one attention, which I stuck my camera in short chubbo's face to take pictures of Jon. I couldn't stop laughing! And boy was he pleased.
After a little more wandering around, we finally decided we had to go. We were tired and not excited about hanging around the park for another 2 hours. On the way out, we stopped a young couple from Great Britain and handed off our preferred tickets. They were pretty excited and we were ready to end out trip. Our ridiculously ghetto bus showed up a few minutes later and after a change to bathing suits, we went down to the pool for a dip and a beer. Ah, the perfect ending.
While I was in the shower rinsing off, I heard some odd noises coming from the bedroom. When I walked out there, Jon was in his pjs swinging his noise-making lightsaber around "fighting the bad guys." Yup, it's time to go home.
Thursday, June 19, 2008
Day 5
Friday, June 6th
Today started in reverse of Thursday. We had to check out of Animal Kingdom Lodge and head back to Shades of Green to check back in. Crazy? Yes.
We took full advantage of our awesome room and view, slept late and took lots of pictures of the animals strutting around. The best was when one of the giraffes walked over to a tree where a large herd animal was hanging out (I totally can't remember what - a cow like thing maybe?) and the giraffe pulled off a branch and dropped it on the ground for her friend. And then kept on munching.
After waiting eight years for the bellhop to get our luggage and check it for the day, we hopped the bus for Epcot and ran to England for our lunch reservations. I ordered a cider with a shot of currant liquor and yum! I ordered a ploughman's lunch (cheeses, meats and bread) and Jon got a shepherd's pie. How come we don't have more things named for occupations? A dancer's snack (water and a ciggy), a hippie's lunch (all vegan), etc. Anyway, back to lunch. We also ordered cream of mushrooms - literally mushrooms sauteed in garlic and cream. OMG, it was to die for! We were licking the plate. One our way out, we split another pint in a souvenir plastic Rose and Crown pint glass. And we made our way to a few more countries.
In America, there were president action figures. Hilarious! If you pushed a button on them, they would speak their well-known phrases. I really wanted to get the Ronald Regan for my dad. We picked up a Disney cookbook in Canada that has a lot of the great foods from the parks. Definitely excited to try it out!
After a few hours at Epcot, we exhausted everything we wanted to do and made our way back to the Lodge to pick up our luggage and move over to Shades. After a shower, we made out way to the Wilderness Lodge for dinner. Tonight's fare is Pacific Northwest. Buffalo, salmon, berry cobbler, pinots . . . That basically sums up our amazing meal. I also had a cream of mushroom soup. Lots of cream and mushrooms that day! Yum!! And we tried an ice wine from Canada. An ice wine is made by leaving the grapes on the vine through the first frost and them harvesting them. They have lots of sugar in them and don't yield as much juice, so the wine is very expensive and packaged in very thing bottles. It's really thick, very dark yellow and really sweet. Good!
After stuffing ourselves to bursting, we trashed our plans to go to Magic Kingdom for the evening hours and headed back to the hotel for a nap. Ah, food coma! We dragged ourselves out of bed at 9p and headed for the Contemporary hotel, which is next door to the Magic Kingdom. We made our way to the bar on the top floor of the building and snagged a table right next to the window. Fireworks would start in a few! The music that's played in the park was piped into the restaurant so that we could hear and see the show. Pretty awesome! We had a great view of the park and could even see Tinkerbell fly from the castle.
On our way to the Magic Kingdom after the fireworks, we stopped in the Contemporary's gift shop and found - you'll never guess - a Pirates-theme Game of Life. Are you kidding?! How on earth are the Pirates a good example of life and how to get married and buy a house? Hilarious! I sort of wanted to buy it just to see what it was like. Maybe you won life by stealing booty from a bunch of ships and collecting mistresses and pet parrots.
Our evening in the Magic Kingdom was great. We started at the Monster's Inc. Laugh Floor, a new attraction. To collect our laughs to power the city of Monstropolis, Mike opened a comedy club. You file into a big theater with bench seats and little table tops with small lamps in front of you. The "stage" is a screen and the show is all animated. But it's interactive. So to start our the show, Mike, the Monster of Ceremonies, shines a light on a few people and calls them out. An ugly guy, a girl dressed as a princess, a guy (Jon) who will stand up and dance (which he did and was hilarious!). Then monsters come on, do a few jokes and move on. You could also text in your fave joke and Mike's nephew came out and thanked the contributors by name and read them. It was really great! Definitely a highlight of the rides.
We finished up our list of musts and called it a night, all the while searching for some carbs to tide us over till breakfast the next day.
Today started in reverse of Thursday. We had to check out of Animal Kingdom Lodge and head back to Shades of Green to check back in. Crazy? Yes.
We took full advantage of our awesome room and view, slept late and took lots of pictures of the animals strutting around. The best was when one of the giraffes walked over to a tree where a large herd animal was hanging out (I totally can't remember what - a cow like thing maybe?) and the giraffe pulled off a branch and dropped it on the ground for her friend. And then kept on munching.
After waiting eight years for the bellhop to get our luggage and check it for the day, we hopped the bus for Epcot and ran to England for our lunch reservations. I ordered a cider with a shot of currant liquor and yum! I ordered a ploughman's lunch (cheeses, meats and bread) and Jon got a shepherd's pie. How come we don't have more things named for occupations? A dancer's snack (water and a ciggy), a hippie's lunch (all vegan), etc. Anyway, back to lunch. We also ordered cream of mushrooms - literally mushrooms sauteed in garlic and cream. OMG, it was to die for! We were licking the plate. One our way out, we split another pint in a souvenir plastic Rose and Crown pint glass. And we made our way to a few more countries.
In America, there were president action figures. Hilarious! If you pushed a button on them, they would speak their well-known phrases. I really wanted to get the Ronald Regan for my dad. We picked up a Disney cookbook in Canada that has a lot of the great foods from the parks. Definitely excited to try it out!
After a few hours at Epcot, we exhausted everything we wanted to do and made our way back to the Lodge to pick up our luggage and move over to Shades. After a shower, we made out way to the Wilderness Lodge for dinner. Tonight's fare is Pacific Northwest. Buffalo, salmon, berry cobbler, pinots . . . That basically sums up our amazing meal. I also had a cream of mushroom soup. Lots of cream and mushrooms that day! Yum!! And we tried an ice wine from Canada. An ice wine is made by leaving the grapes on the vine through the first frost and them harvesting them. They have lots of sugar in them and don't yield as much juice, so the wine is very expensive and packaged in very thing bottles. It's really thick, very dark yellow and really sweet. Good!
After stuffing ourselves to bursting, we trashed our plans to go to Magic Kingdom for the evening hours and headed back to the hotel for a nap. Ah, food coma! We dragged ourselves out of bed at 9p and headed for the Contemporary hotel, which is next door to the Magic Kingdom. We made our way to the bar on the top floor of the building and snagged a table right next to the window. Fireworks would start in a few! The music that's played in the park was piped into the restaurant so that we could hear and see the show. Pretty awesome! We had a great view of the park and could even see Tinkerbell fly from the castle.
On our way to the Magic Kingdom after the fireworks, we stopped in the Contemporary's gift shop and found - you'll never guess - a Pirates-theme Game of Life. Are you kidding?! How on earth are the Pirates a good example of life and how to get married and buy a house? Hilarious! I sort of wanted to buy it just to see what it was like. Maybe you won life by stealing booty from a bunch of ships and collecting mistresses and pet parrots.
Our evening in the Magic Kingdom was great. We started at the Monster's Inc. Laugh Floor, a new attraction. To collect our laughs to power the city of Monstropolis, Mike opened a comedy club. You file into a big theater with bench seats and little table tops with small lamps in front of you. The "stage" is a screen and the show is all animated. But it's interactive. So to start our the show, Mike, the Monster of Ceremonies, shines a light on a few people and calls them out. An ugly guy, a girl dressed as a princess, a guy (Jon) who will stand up and dance (which he did and was hilarious!). Then monsters come on, do a few jokes and move on. You could also text in your fave joke and Mike's nephew came out and thanked the contributors by name and read them. It was really great! Definitely a highlight of the rides.
We finished up our list of musts and called it a night, all the while searching for some carbs to tide us over till breakfast the next day.
Tuesday, June 17, 2008
Day 4
Thursday, June 5th
Tonight our hotel is sold out. So we have to change hotels. We're headed over to the Animal Kingdom Lodge for one night before transferring back to the Shades of Green. So we rolled out of bed around 9:30a, finished throwing things into bags, and headed out to the front of the hotel and asked for a taxi. So we sat and waited . . . and waited . . . and waited . . . Finally a bell boy came over and said that the cab had gotten confused and went to the Lodge to take us to the Shades of Green. So we waited some more.
Meanwhile, we're hanging out on a bench trying not to sweat when a group of old ladies and one woman with Down's Syndrome come over and sit on our bench. So we scooted over and made some room. As we were scooting, my sunglasses fell off the top of my head and disappeared. I hopped up to grab them from under the bench - and they weren't there. I looked all around where we were sitting - nothing. Our bench was up against a railing that had stairs and a waterfall underneath it. I looked over and couldn't spot them, so I walked down the stairs and scoured the floor underneath, the water, the fake rocks - nada. Jon switched places with me and searched down low while I searched the bench area. Gone. After a good 10 minutes of searching, we decided they'd been picked up and were not coming back. Jon was annoyed that I'd lost another pair of sunglasses.
The cab pulls up and we load ourselves in. As we hop into the backseat, I look over at Jon - and he's wearing two pairs of sunglasses. One on his head and one on his shirt. I was flummoxed. Turns out the second they hit the ground, some guy picked them up and turned them into lost and found. (Did he not notice the two idiots searching all over for them?) When one of the bell boys noticed we were looking for something - after 10 minutes - he made my glasses appear just as we were getting into the cab. Geez!
Head over to Animal Kingdom Lodge, check in (get the first 2 digits of our room number and have to call for the last two later) and then hop on the bus for Magic Kingdom. True Disney, here we come! We actually had a great day. Our Disney Without Kids book told us to head to Fantasyland during the 3p parade to get right on some of the "kiddie" rides. But by this time, we're both hungry. So before we can do anything, we have to eat. There's a pavilion in Tomorrowland that serves burgers and chicken sandwiches, nothing special. But what I love about the pavilion is their condiments. In keeping with the futuristic theme, the mayo is blue. What can be better than that? So we head there, and much to my disappointment, the pavilion is a now a dinner-only noodle restaurant. What? Well, no worries, there's another place right around the corner. So we fight our way over there, hop in line, get our chicken sandwiches, and then head to the condiments table. And there's no blue mayo. :( What a disappointment! So now I have to eat a plain old chicken sandwich.
We run through Fantasyland, grab some Fast Passes, and head to Pirates. And it's closed. Come on! It was closed in Disneyland while we were there in December. And now it's closed for 2 weeks of renovations. Jon was pissed. I talked him into an A/C break at Hall of Presidents before hitting up the newly revamped Haunted Mansion. By this time, it's close to parade hour and our Fast Passes are ready. So we hit up Mickey's Philharmagic, an awesome 3D movie complete with bubbles, air puffs as champagne bottles explode, and the smell of apple pie. Awesome! Then we wander over to Peter Pan, my favorite Fantasyland ride because you fly through the ride in a boat, looking down on the scenes from the movie. And then It's a Small World was a no-wait, so we hopped right on. Neither of us had been on that ride in years and it was fun! Definitely updated.
Thoroughly satiated with Disney magic, we headed out for our afternoon break. We walked right in front of the parade the whole way out and got to enjoy Mickey and his dancing brooms. After a shower, we took the bus back to Magic Kingdom where we transferred to a boat to cross the Seven Seas Lagoon toward the Polynesian. Tonight, it's luau night!
We picked up a couple of beers, again brewed by Bud specifically for the Polynesian (fruity lagers) and were led to our seats. And OMG, amazing food! Fresh pineapple, pineapple-coconut sweet bread, salad, ribs, grilled chicken, and lava cakes. Jon's one requirement for the night was to drink out of a coconut. I laughed at his ludicrous desire - until I saw a coconut on the drinks menu! So we both ordered our rum punch and drank it out of coconuts that were carved to look like monkey heads. The show was way cheesy, but did get into the traditional dances at the very end. We snuck out a few minutes early to make it back to the Lodge for our night time excitement.
Jon had read that every night from 9-11 there was animal watching with night vision goggles. We found our way out to the look out and stood in line while the (incredibly patient) zookeeper answered questions and pointed out sleeping animals to the guests. A woman in front of us had her husband and 4 or 5 year old daughter in tow. When it was daughter's turn, the girl took the several thousand dollar goggles in hand and mom lifted her up on top of dad's shoulders. OMG! The zookeeper didn't even blink. Jon and I were dying. We got our turn and found some lumps and bumps. We handed off the NVGs to a couple of guys behind us, all the while listening to their convo with the zookeeper. She was telling them that the animals in the savanna around the hotel are free to go to their pens at night, but most like to hang out outside, except the giraffes. And all of the horticulture was taken care of at night. The planters would take a few zookeepers with them in their truck and have them be look outs while they were working. She said for the most part it wasn't a big deal, but because the animals didn't have to go home, it could get dangerous if someone decided to check things out. So they'd have to give the planters a warning and everyone would hop back in the truck. We're listening and waiting to look again when a woman wanders up with several kids. She puts one kid up on the fence (um, wild animals a few feet away), looks around, and then says loudly, "Are we supposed to have special glasses for this?" No lady, just by standing on this look out, you have special night vision. And that's when we left . . .
Tonight our hotel is sold out. So we have to change hotels. We're headed over to the Animal Kingdom Lodge for one night before transferring back to the Shades of Green. So we rolled out of bed around 9:30a, finished throwing things into bags, and headed out to the front of the hotel and asked for a taxi. So we sat and waited . . . and waited . . . and waited . . . Finally a bell boy came over and said that the cab had gotten confused and went to the Lodge to take us to the Shades of Green. So we waited some more.
Meanwhile, we're hanging out on a bench trying not to sweat when a group of old ladies and one woman with Down's Syndrome come over and sit on our bench. So we scooted over and made some room. As we were scooting, my sunglasses fell off the top of my head and disappeared. I hopped up to grab them from under the bench - and they weren't there. I looked all around where we were sitting - nothing. Our bench was up against a railing that had stairs and a waterfall underneath it. I looked over and couldn't spot them, so I walked down the stairs and scoured the floor underneath, the water, the fake rocks - nada. Jon switched places with me and searched down low while I searched the bench area. Gone. After a good 10 minutes of searching, we decided they'd been picked up and were not coming back. Jon was annoyed that I'd lost another pair of sunglasses.
The cab pulls up and we load ourselves in. As we hop into the backseat, I look over at Jon - and he's wearing two pairs of sunglasses. One on his head and one on his shirt. I was flummoxed. Turns out the second they hit the ground, some guy picked them up and turned them into lost and found. (Did he not notice the two idiots searching all over for them?) When one of the bell boys noticed we were looking for something - after 10 minutes - he made my glasses appear just as we were getting into the cab. Geez!
Head over to Animal Kingdom Lodge, check in (get the first 2 digits of our room number and have to call for the last two later) and then hop on the bus for Magic Kingdom. True Disney, here we come! We actually had a great day. Our Disney Without Kids book told us to head to Fantasyland during the 3p parade to get right on some of the "kiddie" rides. But by this time, we're both hungry. So before we can do anything, we have to eat. There's a pavilion in Tomorrowland that serves burgers and chicken sandwiches, nothing special. But what I love about the pavilion is their condiments. In keeping with the futuristic theme, the mayo is blue. What can be better than that? So we head there, and much to my disappointment, the pavilion is a now a dinner-only noodle restaurant. What? Well, no worries, there's another place right around the corner. So we fight our way over there, hop in line, get our chicken sandwiches, and then head to the condiments table. And there's no blue mayo. :( What a disappointment! So now I have to eat a plain old chicken sandwich.
We run through Fantasyland, grab some Fast Passes, and head to Pirates. And it's closed. Come on! It was closed in Disneyland while we were there in December. And now it's closed for 2 weeks of renovations. Jon was pissed. I talked him into an A/C break at Hall of Presidents before hitting up the newly revamped Haunted Mansion. By this time, it's close to parade hour and our Fast Passes are ready. So we hit up Mickey's Philharmagic, an awesome 3D movie complete with bubbles, air puffs as champagne bottles explode, and the smell of apple pie. Awesome! Then we wander over to Peter Pan, my favorite Fantasyland ride because you fly through the ride in a boat, looking down on the scenes from the movie. And then It's a Small World was a no-wait, so we hopped right on. Neither of us had been on that ride in years and it was fun! Definitely updated.
Thoroughly satiated with Disney magic, we headed out for our afternoon break. We walked right in front of the parade the whole way out and got to enjoy Mickey and his dancing brooms. After a shower, we took the bus back to Magic Kingdom where we transferred to a boat to cross the Seven Seas Lagoon toward the Polynesian. Tonight, it's luau night!
We picked up a couple of beers, again brewed by Bud specifically for the Polynesian (fruity lagers) and were led to our seats. And OMG, amazing food! Fresh pineapple, pineapple-coconut sweet bread, salad, ribs, grilled chicken, and lava cakes. Jon's one requirement for the night was to drink out of a coconut. I laughed at his ludicrous desire - until I saw a coconut on the drinks menu! So we both ordered our rum punch and drank it out of coconuts that were carved to look like monkey heads. The show was way cheesy, but did get into the traditional dances at the very end. We snuck out a few minutes early to make it back to the Lodge for our night time excitement.
Jon had read that every night from 9-11 there was animal watching with night vision goggles. We found our way out to the look out and stood in line while the (incredibly patient) zookeeper answered questions and pointed out sleeping animals to the guests. A woman in front of us had her husband and 4 or 5 year old daughter in tow. When it was daughter's turn, the girl took the several thousand dollar goggles in hand and mom lifted her up on top of dad's shoulders. OMG! The zookeeper didn't even blink. Jon and I were dying. We got our turn and found some lumps and bumps. We handed off the NVGs to a couple of guys behind us, all the while listening to their convo with the zookeeper. She was telling them that the animals in the savanna around the hotel are free to go to their pens at night, but most like to hang out outside, except the giraffes. And all of the horticulture was taken care of at night. The planters would take a few zookeepers with them in their truck and have them be look outs while they were working. She said for the most part it wasn't a big deal, but because the animals didn't have to go home, it could get dangerous if someone decided to check things out. So they'd have to give the planters a warning and everyone would hop back in the truck. We're listening and waiting to look again when a woman wanders up with several kids. She puts one kid up on the fence (um, wild animals a few feet away), looks around, and then says loudly, "Are we supposed to have special glasses for this?" No lady, just by standing on this look out, you have special night vision. And that's when we left . . .
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