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?
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
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!
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