Yesterday, I bought box brownies to make for Mr. Wonderful and me to enjoy during our approaching adventure. I'm not much of a cook and while I enjoy baking, I still didn't have time or energy to make brownies (or anything for that matter) from scratch. So I found a box of mix for $1.25 and was so proud of myself for finding one on sale.
I went home and eventually remembered I had to still put them in the oven before they'd turn to real brownies. I dumped in the water and the egg(white)s with the powder, and then saw that it called for 1/4c. of oil. I don't have oil because as I already mentioned, I don't cook. Then I recalled I had bought (bought'n) extra virgin olive oil when I attempted cooking dinner for Mr. Wonderful on his first day in his new classroom (for the record that meal turned out pretty fantastic if I do say so myself). "Oil is oil, right?" I reasoned. So I dumped it in and started mixing. I wasn't totally mentally present, not paying 100% attention to the task at hand. However, I couldn't help but observe Man, it smells like garlic... (stir stir stir) ...maybe it's this spoon.. maybe it held on to something garlic-y... (stir stir stir)...it is REALLY strong though! And then it hit me. When I bought that damned olive oil, I mistakenly got the garlic flavored version. Ah crap.
Maybe it won't be noticeable enough to make a difference... I taste tested. So wrong! Oh my goodness it was AWFUL. I couldn't get that garlic chocolate taste out of my mouth to save my life. And to make matters worse, I had a huge bowl of the stuff just SITTING there! I had to walk away and regain my composure. I eventually made it back (clothes pin plugging my nose, I kid you not-- the whole kitchen reeked of garlic!) and scooped all that brownie batter into the garbage. Yuck. What a waste! Maybe once or twice a year do I encounter brownie batter and to waste it on garlic is just a shame.
You would think that I immediately took the garbage out to the dumpster, but you would be mistaken. It still sits in the can, and every time the lid flips open I am slapped in the face by the hand of garlic brownies once again. Another kitchen adventure for me. Aye carumba.
In other news: I'm getting cut! I have an insanely huge (20cm, ~8inches!) ovarian cyst (or that's what they're "assuming" anyway... ugh). So they're cutting me open and getting it out. Too big to be done laparoscopically which means I'm out of work for 4 weeks minimum, potentially 6! (but if I have anything to say about it, it will NOT be 6.) No driving for two weeks and I will probably never ever be able to run again which is high on the scale of unfortunate because while my running progress has been PAINFULLY SLOW, progress is progress and I am doing better now than I was a few months ago. While being sliced and diced is never an ideal activity, I have to admit how insanely fortunate I am. I have great medical insurance. I have an employer that won't fire me for needing 4 weeks off (they won't give me short term disability or FMLA... but they'll gladly let me use my vacation time or take an unpaid leave...) but the take home point is that I will have a JOB to go back to, for which I'm insanely grateful. I don't have kids or anybody that is dependent upon me for their daily care. I am not in school or anything that will take a hit from my insanely long recovery period. I will miss coaching and that does bum me out. But I think I'll be able to get to it quickly so long as I don't go chasing any stray balls or jump in a scrimmage.. hmm.
I'm also grateful for my family and the handful of friends I've got up here that are willing to jump and help out in whatever way they can. I'm seriously blessed. So while I'll admit being scared spitless for all this to go down, I totally recognize that I'm not doing it alone and there are some solid people who will walk beside me. Very very very grateful.
Shoutout to my parents who heard the news and dropped everything in their ridiculously busy lives to make plans to be here the day of and several days after I'm cut. They're kind of rockstar parents, but keep it quiet. I don't want them getting a big head. :)
Thursday, September 30, 2010
Thursday, September 23, 2010
DAYS!
Guess who got a straight days position?!? Ding ding!! I did! I am on my knees with gratefulness that it has FINALLY happened. I really thought it might never come! I'd be lying if I denied looking up jobs elsewhere with day positions immediately available. I never actually considered quitting, but definitely toyed with the idea during those painful 2am-5:30am stretches (let's be serious 5:30am on isn't exactly a parade either..).
Anyway, I have no idea when I'll actually start the 'straight days' part of it all, but to know it's coming is exactly the boost I needed to get me through nights. I have a bad feeling in my gut that straight days won't start until after the holidays. I go back to rotating days at the end of October, then back to nights mid December. I feel like I'll have to do that last rotation of nights before I can embrace daytime with a permanence I've longed for since I started working almost two and a half years ago. Hallelujah! (that's the hardest word in the world to remember how to spell).
Anyway, I have no idea when I'll actually start the 'straight days' part of it all, but to know it's coming is exactly the boost I needed to get me through nights. I have a bad feeling in my gut that straight days won't start until after the holidays. I go back to rotating days at the end of October, then back to nights mid December. I feel like I'll have to do that last rotation of nights before I can embrace daytime with a permanence I've longed for since I started working almost two and a half years ago. Hallelujah! (that's the hardest word in the world to remember how to spell).
Wednesday, September 1, 2010
A Series of Unfortunate Events
This week has been something else.
1) Sunday evening I went to plug in my phone so it could charge overnight. I was perplexed when it wouldn't charge. After trying several times in several different outlets, walking away and coming back to it five minutes later, and silently cursing at the darn thing, I finally surrendered and resolved to taking it to the Verizon store the next day. I walked there early Monday afternoon, as it was gorgeous weather and just over a mile away. The biggest question I wanted answered was 'is it my phone or the charger?' Go figure it was my phone. The charger port was broken. Of course my "best" option would be to upgrade and start a new 2 year contract. I said "No thank you," because my family who has so graciously kept me on the family plan is not feeling the upgrade and renewal vibe quite yet. That means I got to just buy a new (read: refurbished) phone. The cheapest option? A Motorola something for $90. Ouch. But I had no option. My current phone had two battery bars and no way of re-charging it. I signed my hard earned greenbacks away and looked forward to my new (to me) phone's arrival via FedEx the next day.
2) Tuesday morning my phone was DEAD. Not an ounce of life to it. I was kind of excited to not be always checking my phone and wondering if that soft buzz I heard was a text message or my mind playing tricks on me. I've been (assistant) coaching this high school team and I love it. This week the practices have been on the south side of the city, down by Boeing Field. The two JV coaches and I live fairly close to each other on the north side of the city so we carpooled. Tuesday, I drove to our carpool meet up point, parked, and left with the other coaches. We got back a good three to three and a half hours later and I walked to my car-- quickly as it was raining and it had been for the past three hours-- only to find that my car was not where I left it. WTF. I walked up and down the street a few times thinking "Open your eyes, Kristin, it HAS to be here!" Nay. No matter how much I wished it to reappear, my car was very much gone. Did I get towed?! Is it STOLEN?! NOW WHAT?!?! I felt the lump rising in my throat as panic set in. As if my missing automobile wasn't enough, I remembered my phone was dead. At times like these I call my dad because he knows what to do in most situations... or I call my mom who can somehow interpret my incomprehensible sobs in times of great turmoil and strife. I also considered calling Mr. Wonderful who lives in that neighborhood (but of course who was at work in Bellevue..) to see if he could piece together where in God's green earth my car might have wandered off to. No. None of those were possible. I was 3.5 miles from home so, I started walking. In hindsight, the walk was good because I had a lot of adrenaline and negative energy that needed to be released and the long walk helped. I got home maybe an hour later and was drenched, hungry, pissed off and defeated. I found Mr. Wonderful on Facebook chat and he told me I should call the police. I thought it sounded dramatic... that's for like car wrecks and robberies and stuff. He insisted-- I'd essentially been robbed of my car. There is a pay phone at the "BEER WINE" store across the street from my apartment. I somberly walked over with my laundry quarters and the small amount of dignity I had left and tried calling people. I tried calling my dad first but that damned payphone robbed me blind. What's worse is that I kept feeding it quarters thinking "This time it will work! It just needs warming up!" Seriously-- ALL of my laundry quarters-- gone. I called 9-1-1 and that was only successful because it's a free call. Lame. I told them all my information and the woman said, "Ma'am your car has been impounded." I was silent. (truthfully I was thinking 'what?! they took it to a junk yard?!' and then I remembered impounded=towed, not demolished.) I didn't know whether to be excited or pissed off. I was glad that it was (hopefully) intact somewhere, not being stripped down by hooligans then lit on fire. But I was so mad because someone towed my car for no reason. The 9-1-1 operator must have been reading my mind because she said "There is a note here that says 'driveway,' so that means it was parked too close to a driveway." "Really?! That's... crazy." I really try to not unleash my fury on the poor souls that answer phones because they're usually not directly involved with what ever caused my wrath. She told me the phone number of the towing place, I thanked her for her help (maybe half heartedly) and moped back to my apartment.
The whole morning I'd been wondering about my phone getting delivered that day. The nature of my apartment makes it impossible to get packages that require a signature (there's no front door buzzer... FedEx doesn't have keys to the front door.. it's ridiculous). I used Skype to call FedEx and ask "where is my package?" They said that it would be delivered by 3pm (at the time it was 2:30). I was pleasantly surprised that delivery hadn't been attempted yet and that it was a short wait period. I camped out at the front door and right at 3, the FedEx lady came. I could have hugged her. I needed to hug SOMEONE. I didn't though-- don't worry. I ran back to my apartment, eventually got the new phone (which btw is short and stout and ugly... not a big fan...) activated and started calling people.
a) Towing place: I learned it would cost me $170.22 to get my car back if I picked it up before midnight, and that they were open 24 hours a day and that they were kind of far away from where I live. Boo.
b) My dad: mostly to vent.
Well... I guess that's all the people I called. I talked to Mr. Wonderful online and he offered to take me to the towing place later. We had plans to have dinner with people in our small group at church and I was supposed to make a salad to take. After the day I had, I was so unmotivated to hoof it to the store in the rain to spend money I DON'T HAVE to make a salad. So I didn't. I laid down in my bed and I pouted. Not long after my pity party started, he showed up ready to go to dinner and I still was in sweat pants without any makeup or anything. He was so nice regardless of my ridiculous nature! I found a winner, folks. He talked me almost all the way out of my funk and we went to the store then dinner. Dinner was so great and exactly the distraction I needed. I had a great time and am so excited for my very slow growing social circle.
After dinner we drove to the towing place and I forked over the $170.22. While waiting I saw a sign on the wall about paying tickets. Man, that'd suck to get a ticket AND get towed! When the lady was giving my my paperwork she said (sympathetically, not mean) "And just to add insult to injury here is your ticket and information on contesting it." I could have thrown up. SERIOUSLY?! Speechless. I left, too exhausted to be actively mad anymore. I haven't looked at that paperwork since.. I probably should.
Anyway-- it was kind of a crappy day due to getting towed and being phone-less. However, I am really grateful for the people I've found here that are so quick to help and be supportive. It's actually quite exciting. The first six-ish months that I lived here were pretty lonely, and while I would hardly call myself a social butterfly, it's nice to have people that I know and who are enthusiastic to help when I need it.
It's only Thursday. I work Friday through Sunday and go back to nights on Tuesday. Pray for me, friends. As my attitude about my social life gets better and better, I've had a harder time being excited about work. Several factors play into that, but still. Night shift will not help anything at all.
And just so you know, parking within five feet of a driveway is apparently illegal in Seattle. For the record, I think that's the most BOGUS law ever-- five feet is almost a whole parking spot. Dislike. Major.
1) Sunday evening I went to plug in my phone so it could charge overnight. I was perplexed when it wouldn't charge. After trying several times in several different outlets, walking away and coming back to it five minutes later, and silently cursing at the darn thing, I finally surrendered and resolved to taking it to the Verizon store the next day. I walked there early Monday afternoon, as it was gorgeous weather and just over a mile away. The biggest question I wanted answered was 'is it my phone or the charger?' Go figure it was my phone. The charger port was broken. Of course my "best" option would be to upgrade and start a new 2 year contract. I said "No thank you," because my family who has so graciously kept me on the family plan is not feeling the upgrade and renewal vibe quite yet. That means I got to just buy a new (read: refurbished) phone. The cheapest option? A Motorola something for $90. Ouch. But I had no option. My current phone had two battery bars and no way of re-charging it. I signed my hard earned greenbacks away and looked forward to my new (to me) phone's arrival via FedEx the next day.
2) Tuesday morning my phone was DEAD. Not an ounce of life to it. I was kind of excited to not be always checking my phone and wondering if that soft buzz I heard was a text message or my mind playing tricks on me. I've been (assistant) coaching this high school team and I love it. This week the practices have been on the south side of the city, down by Boeing Field. The two JV coaches and I live fairly close to each other on the north side of the city so we carpooled. Tuesday, I drove to our carpool meet up point, parked, and left with the other coaches. We got back a good three to three and a half hours later and I walked to my car-- quickly as it was raining and it had been for the past three hours-- only to find that my car was not where I left it. WTF. I walked up and down the street a few times thinking "Open your eyes, Kristin, it HAS to be here!" Nay. No matter how much I wished it to reappear, my car was very much gone. Did I get towed?! Is it STOLEN?! NOW WHAT?!?! I felt the lump rising in my throat as panic set in. As if my missing automobile wasn't enough, I remembered my phone was dead. At times like these I call my dad because he knows what to do in most situations... or I call my mom who can somehow interpret my incomprehensible sobs in times of great turmoil and strife. I also considered calling Mr. Wonderful who lives in that neighborhood (but of course who was at work in Bellevue..) to see if he could piece together where in God's green earth my car might have wandered off to. No. None of those were possible. I was 3.5 miles from home so, I started walking. In hindsight, the walk was good because I had a lot of adrenaline and negative energy that needed to be released and the long walk helped. I got home maybe an hour later and was drenched, hungry, pissed off and defeated. I found Mr. Wonderful on Facebook chat and he told me I should call the police. I thought it sounded dramatic... that's for like car wrecks and robberies and stuff. He insisted-- I'd essentially been robbed of my car. There is a pay phone at the "BEER WINE" store across the street from my apartment. I somberly walked over with my laundry quarters and the small amount of dignity I had left and tried calling people. I tried calling my dad first but that damned payphone robbed me blind. What's worse is that I kept feeding it quarters thinking "This time it will work! It just needs warming up!" Seriously-- ALL of my laundry quarters-- gone. I called 9-1-1 and that was only successful because it's a free call. Lame. I told them all my information and the woman said, "Ma'am your car has been impounded." I was silent. (truthfully I was thinking 'what?! they took it to a junk yard?!' and then I remembered impounded=towed, not demolished.) I didn't know whether to be excited or pissed off. I was glad that it was (hopefully) intact somewhere, not being stripped down by hooligans then lit on fire. But I was so mad because someone towed my car for no reason. The 9-1-1 operator must have been reading my mind because she said "There is a note here that says 'driveway,' so that means it was parked too close to a driveway." "Really?! That's... crazy." I really try to not unleash my fury on the poor souls that answer phones because they're usually not directly involved with what ever caused my wrath. She told me the phone number of the towing place, I thanked her for her help (maybe half heartedly) and moped back to my apartment.
The whole morning I'd been wondering about my phone getting delivered that day. The nature of my apartment makes it impossible to get packages that require a signature (there's no front door buzzer... FedEx doesn't have keys to the front door.. it's ridiculous). I used Skype to call FedEx and ask "where is my package?" They said that it would be delivered by 3pm (at the time it was 2:30). I was pleasantly surprised that delivery hadn't been attempted yet and that it was a short wait period. I camped out at the front door and right at 3, the FedEx lady came. I could have hugged her. I needed to hug SOMEONE. I didn't though-- don't worry. I ran back to my apartment, eventually got the new phone (which btw is short and stout and ugly... not a big fan...) activated and started calling people.
a) Towing place: I learned it would cost me $170.22 to get my car back if I picked it up before midnight, and that they were open 24 hours a day and that they were kind of far away from where I live. Boo.
b) My dad: mostly to vent.
Well... I guess that's all the people I called. I talked to Mr. Wonderful online and he offered to take me to the towing place later. We had plans to have dinner with people in our small group at church and I was supposed to make a salad to take. After the day I had, I was so unmotivated to hoof it to the store in the rain to spend money I DON'T HAVE to make a salad. So I didn't. I laid down in my bed and I pouted. Not long after my pity party started, he showed up ready to go to dinner and I still was in sweat pants without any makeup or anything. He was so nice regardless of my ridiculous nature! I found a winner, folks. He talked me almost all the way out of my funk and we went to the store then dinner. Dinner was so great and exactly the distraction I needed. I had a great time and am so excited for my very slow growing social circle.
After dinner we drove to the towing place and I forked over the $170.22. While waiting I saw a sign on the wall about paying tickets. Man, that'd suck to get a ticket AND get towed! When the lady was giving my my paperwork she said (sympathetically, not mean) "And just to add insult to injury here is your ticket and information on contesting it." I could have thrown up. SERIOUSLY?! Speechless. I left, too exhausted to be actively mad anymore. I haven't looked at that paperwork since.. I probably should.
Anyway-- it was kind of a crappy day due to getting towed and being phone-less. However, I am really grateful for the people I've found here that are so quick to help and be supportive. It's actually quite exciting. The first six-ish months that I lived here were pretty lonely, and while I would hardly call myself a social butterfly, it's nice to have people that I know and who are enthusiastic to help when I need it.
It's only Thursday. I work Friday through Sunday and go back to nights on Tuesday. Pray for me, friends. As my attitude about my social life gets better and better, I've had a harder time being excited about work. Several factors play into that, but still. Night shift will not help anything at all.
And just so you know, parking within five feet of a driveway is apparently illegal in Seattle. For the record, I think that's the most BOGUS law ever-- five feet is almost a whole parking spot. Dislike. Major.
Wednesday, August 25, 2010
Puke
*I recently flew to Chicago to attend and participate in the Alumni soccer game. Of course it was thunder storming as my plane from Sea-Tac to O'Hare was ready to land. I am not a big fan of storms at all to begin with, but whilst in an aircraft at 36,000 feet in the air, fear takes on a whole new meaning. The storms created turbulence like I'd never experienced it. At one point my seat dropped out from under me! My knuckles were white as they gripped the seat and beads of sweat formed on my forehead. I was sooo nauseous, but that's not entirely uncommon when I'm on a landing aircraft so I didn't think too much of it. As we bounced along for what seemed like hours but in actuality may have been ten-ish minutes, I couldn't help but laugh. I felt like a crazy person-- when crying is more appropriate, I was giggling. Wtf?? It was definitely a nervous laugh as I looked around at my fellow fliers thinking So these are the clowns I'm going down with? We continued our eternal descent and I was sure my life was about to end. I contemplated getting my phone out and calling my family and friends to say 'It's been real...' but before I could reach for it, I was PUKING. What?! I always get nauseous but I never actually puke!! It caught me so off guard! I didn't even have time to grab the little vomit bag! Nope-- right into the aisle went my breakfast and lame little lunch. Needless to say I was the most popular on that plane by the time we got off. I'll be grateful that I was in an aisle seat and not a window or (shudder) middle seat! Oh, it was just mortifying. And the turbulence was so bad that the flight attendants couldn't do anything about it until we landed and I was forbidden from excusing myself to the little plane bathroom! Seriously?! Was this happening to me?! Of course it was, this is how my life goes. All in a day.
*Despite the less than pleasant plane landing, I had so much fun in Chicago. Much better than I expected, which is always nice. Going back really assured me that I made the right decision in moving to Seattle. Now I just have to convince everyone there that is so much fun to move here with me. Honestly, I can do without the city (the whole thing smells like sewer and bus exhaust!)-- it's the people that I miss. It was so awesome how we just picked up right where we left off-- no awkwardness or weird vibes. I just can't get over how FUN it was, and I am so glad I dropped the money for the plane ticket out there.
*I started coaching here! I missed the first two days of preseason due to the aforementioned Chicago trip (totally worth it). It's a private high school downtown and I'm the assistant coach for the varsity team. I was sick to my stomach the first morning with nerves, and even into the practice... but by the end of the two hours I was loving it! Honestly when I got there I was like I should just leave and email them that I quit... I can't do this. This is so uncomfortable. My social anxieties are more and more annoying lately, but I am glad that I rarely let them prevent me from embracing new opportunities. I have like thirty new names to learn and personalities that go along with them. I'm so excited to be coaching again-- I love it.
*Back to work today after a good stretch of time off. I feel like I work an insane amount, then am off an insane amount. I appreciate the balance, but the extremes are starting to wear me down. Now that summer is coming to an end, I would be content with spreading my shifts out more uniformly over the week rather than packing them all in to try and get as many days off in a row as possible. We'll see. I go back to nights on September 5th which will make me a super pleasant person to be around. But a wise birdy (aka my boss) told me that two day positions are about to be posted. Here's to hoping that one of the two people in front of me for seniority forgets they want days or just doesn't see the opening in time...
*Despite the less than pleasant plane landing, I had so much fun in Chicago. Much better than I expected, which is always nice. Going back really assured me that I made the right decision in moving to Seattle. Now I just have to convince everyone there that is so much fun to move here with me. Honestly, I can do without the city (the whole thing smells like sewer and bus exhaust!)-- it's the people that I miss. It was so awesome how we just picked up right where we left off-- no awkwardness or weird vibes. I just can't get over how FUN it was, and I am so glad I dropped the money for the plane ticket out there.
*I started coaching here! I missed the first two days of preseason due to the aforementioned Chicago trip (totally worth it). It's a private high school downtown and I'm the assistant coach for the varsity team. I was sick to my stomach the first morning with nerves, and even into the practice... but by the end of the two hours I was loving it! Honestly when I got there I was like I should just leave and email them that I quit... I can't do this. This is so uncomfortable. My social anxieties are more and more annoying lately, but I am glad that I rarely let them prevent me from embracing new opportunities. I have like thirty new names to learn and personalities that go along with them. I'm so excited to be coaching again-- I love it.
*Back to work today after a good stretch of time off. I feel like I work an insane amount, then am off an insane amount. I appreciate the balance, but the extremes are starting to wear me down. Now that summer is coming to an end, I would be content with spreading my shifts out more uniformly over the week rather than packing them all in to try and get as many days off in a row as possible. We'll see. I go back to nights on September 5th which will make me a super pleasant person to be around. But a wise birdy (aka my boss) told me that two day positions are about to be posted. Here's to hoping that one of the two people in front of me for seniority forgets they want days or just doesn't see the opening in time...
Sunday, July 25, 2010
A Picture Post
Summer 2010 has been great!
She moved in for a few weeks and we had so much fun.
I met him. :)
I went hiking to this place (Wallace Falls)-- twice in one week. It is STUNNING.
I went to my first Mariner's game...
with my new roomie!
My sister visited and we had fun! This is epic progress..
I took a spontaneous trip home to see family... including Marco..
and to eat a lot of cherries, let's be serious. Worms shmerms...
We went flying and I came this close to tossing my cookies...
Made a trip to Pacific City-- my favorite place ever.
Oh, he came too. :)
My BFF came up to Seattle for several days and we had lots of fun. I miss her SO MUCH when she's in Europe.
I went kayaking in the Sound during my spontaneous day trip to Orcas Island...
And had so much fun there. It must have been the great company.
:)It's hard to believe summer is nearly over. I seriously feel like it JUST started. I'm finally kinda tan.. it's been warm for like 4 days in a row..I haven't worn jeans in... a while-- we just achived summer-dome, and we're nearing the end of JULY?! Crazy crazy. I guess I'll just have to squeeze that much more out of August then. Can't wait!
Wednesday, July 21, 2010
My First Pedicure
My best friend, Bri, is in the United States, visiting for a month. For the past two years she has been a second grade teacher at an international school in GERMANY, and is eagerly awaiting the start of her third year. She came up to Seattle on Thursday last week and it has been so great getting to visit with her! We've spent so much time with our other good friend from high school who recently moved here. I think it's really awesome how we can just pick up right where we left off. It doesn't matter that we all went to different colleges and mainly talked/visited during winter and summer breaks... it doesn't matter that we haven't lived in close proximity to each other SINCE graduating from high school. I am so grateful for both of them. I haven't had so many belly laughs in a long time.
Yesterday, Bri and I decided to get pedicures. I had been thinking about getting one for a while, as my commitment to wear flip flops after the first sunny day of the year has made me painfully aware of my less than beautiful feet. I have never had a pedicure before. I remember in high school, girls frequently got them, before dances especially. Our soccer coaches always told us not to get them though because they take away your callouses during said pedicure which would inevitably lead to painful blisters the next time you put your cleats on. I've never needed a pedicure... the whole idea does seem kind of ludicrous to me... sitting up on a giant massage chair throne while someone else pours over my feet? Weird.
Walking into the shop yesterday, I was nervous! I don't exactly love it when strangers touch me.. and here I was, preparing to PAY a stranger to touch my FEET of all places. I may or may not be insanely ticklish... but dove in to the experience with almost genuine enthusiasm regardless. I chose my nail polish color-- neon green. Might as well have fun with it, right? 99% of my toenail polish color choices in life have been some shade of red. Lets spice it up. Timidly, I walked to to the chair where my pedicure-ist (???), Ali waited patiently. I sat down and she showed me the massage chair (which I had no idea was there-- it was great!) and put my feet in the scalding hot water. As I sat down and got situated, I noticed Ali eyeing my feet. Then I noticed that she put gloves on-- which is great, I'd totally don gloves if I were touching people's feet all day too! Buuuut then I noticed she was the ONLY pedicure-ist of four that decided gloves were necessary. I know my feet are gross-- thick callouses, unkempt toenails, and cuticles to cry about... but are they so bad that she thought "Damn, better glove up for this one!"??? Maybe I should have pursued the sport of pedicure earlier in life.. She got started, trimming my toenails and doing something to the cuticles. They have so many tools! I was doing well with the tickle factor for a while; I was quite impressed with myself. I noticed the woman sitting next to me (not Bri) who had arrived a little earlier than we had. They were doing something to her feet that involved what I want to say was a pumice stone.. they took it and rubbed it all over the bottom of her feet. Ohhh snap, if they do that to me I will die. Maybe she's getting a different kind of pedicure, and they won't do that to me.. That theory was thwarted and my anxiety grew as I saw them start doing it to Bri's feet. Maybe minutes later I saw Ali whip out the pumice thing. Gulp. I tried to look away. I tried deep breathing. I tried to go to my calm/happy place. Nothing. The second she rubbed that thing on the bottom of my foot, my whole body lurched and I was sent into fits of giggles and laughter. I twisted and squirmed and tried (failed miserably) to contain myself. White knuckled, I gripped the chair in sincere efforts to not KICK poor Ali in the FACE. She kept going despite my thrashing... heads turned in the salon-- Who the hell gets a pedicure when they're so ticklish?! After what seemed like hours, but in reality was a few short minutes, Ali looked up at me and said in her awesome accent "Ticklish?" I told her that yes indeed I was, and apologized profusely. She continued to scrub down the callouses I have worked so hard to build... then she moved to the next foot. That whole scene... all over again. Tickling is crazy to me. It is like a form of torture, but instead of crying, you are laughing. It is such a weird place because you're like.. happy, you're laughing uncontrollably, but you will do anything to make the tickling stop. Including kicking your pedicure-ist in the face. Don't worry, I didn't kick Ali, but still. I was filled with relief when she was done with that part. On the second foot she asked "Ticklish?" again. I thought YES LADY I AM TICKLISH! I AM ALSO CONTENT WITH MY CALLOUSES. LET'S MOVE ON. But all I could spit out was an awkward head not and a snort as she went to town on the bottom of my foot.
The other shocking part of a pedicure is that they like massage your legs. Again, touch from strangers is something I discourage enthusiastically. So when Ali started rubbing stuff on my pudgy lower legs, my eyes bugged out and the air shot out of my lungs. What in tarnation was she doing?! I wanted my toe nails tended to and painted-- that's it! Here she goes exfoliating, massaging, lotioning... I shudder at the thought. AND I hadn't shaved my legs in a day or two, so I'm sure she was cringing as she rubbed my legs.. shoot her hands were probably bleeding. Mortifying.
She finally painted my toes. The green looks less cool than I thought it would, but it's still something new and fun and something I wouldn't have done on my own. Bri and I sat with our toes drying for a good half hour and were on our way. A pedicure is insanely expensive.. the cheapest we found was this place that charged $27 bones. If you think about it, it's a great business for them, but to me it seems asinine to pay someone for torture and toe polish. And of course there's a spot on the receipt for a tip. Don't get me started on tipping. (Don't get me wrong either-- I tip and I think I am a generous tipper-- the IDEA of tipping really irritates me). Despite the price, it was a fun activity with my best friend who is here for such a short time. And even though my toenails are alien green, I feel less ashamed showing my feet in public now. I can't say that I'll be getting another pedicure soon (..or ever..) but, this one was fun, quite the experience.
Yesterday, Bri and I decided to get pedicures. I had been thinking about getting one for a while, as my commitment to wear flip flops after the first sunny day of the year has made me painfully aware of my less than beautiful feet. I have never had a pedicure before. I remember in high school, girls frequently got them, before dances especially. Our soccer coaches always told us not to get them though because they take away your callouses during said pedicure which would inevitably lead to painful blisters the next time you put your cleats on. I've never needed a pedicure... the whole idea does seem kind of ludicrous to me... sitting up on a giant massage chair throne while someone else pours over my feet? Weird.
Walking into the shop yesterday, I was nervous! I don't exactly love it when strangers touch me.. and here I was, preparing to PAY a stranger to touch my FEET of all places. I may or may not be insanely ticklish... but dove in to the experience with almost genuine enthusiasm regardless. I chose my nail polish color-- neon green. Might as well have fun with it, right? 99% of my toenail polish color choices in life have been some shade of red. Lets spice it up. Timidly, I walked to to the chair where my pedicure-ist (???), Ali waited patiently. I sat down and she showed me the massage chair (which I had no idea was there-- it was great!) and put my feet in the scalding hot water. As I sat down and got situated, I noticed Ali eyeing my feet. Then I noticed that she put gloves on-- which is great, I'd totally don gloves if I were touching people's feet all day too! Buuuut then I noticed she was the ONLY pedicure-ist of four that decided gloves were necessary. I know my feet are gross-- thick callouses, unkempt toenails, and cuticles to cry about... but are they so bad that she thought "Damn, better glove up for this one!"??? Maybe I should have pursued the sport of pedicure earlier in life.. She got started, trimming my toenails and doing something to the cuticles. They have so many tools! I was doing well with the tickle factor for a while; I was quite impressed with myself. I noticed the woman sitting next to me (not Bri) who had arrived a little earlier than we had. They were doing something to her feet that involved what I want to say was a pumice stone.. they took it and rubbed it all over the bottom of her feet. Ohhh snap, if they do that to me I will die. Maybe she's getting a different kind of pedicure, and they won't do that to me.. That theory was thwarted and my anxiety grew as I saw them start doing it to Bri's feet. Maybe minutes later I saw Ali whip out the pumice thing. Gulp. I tried to look away. I tried deep breathing. I tried to go to my calm/happy place. Nothing. The second she rubbed that thing on the bottom of my foot, my whole body lurched and I was sent into fits of giggles and laughter. I twisted and squirmed and tried (failed miserably) to contain myself. White knuckled, I gripped the chair in sincere efforts to not KICK poor Ali in the FACE. She kept going despite my thrashing... heads turned in the salon-- Who the hell gets a pedicure when they're so ticklish?! After what seemed like hours, but in reality was a few short minutes, Ali looked up at me and said in her awesome accent "Ticklish?" I told her that yes indeed I was, and apologized profusely. She continued to scrub down the callouses I have worked so hard to build... then she moved to the next foot. That whole scene... all over again. Tickling is crazy to me. It is like a form of torture, but instead of crying, you are laughing. It is such a weird place because you're like.. happy, you're laughing uncontrollably, but you will do anything to make the tickling stop. Including kicking your pedicure-ist in the face. Don't worry, I didn't kick Ali, but still. I was filled with relief when she was done with that part. On the second foot she asked "Ticklish?" again. I thought YES LADY I AM TICKLISH! I AM ALSO CONTENT WITH MY CALLOUSES. LET'S MOVE ON. But all I could spit out was an awkward head not and a snort as she went to town on the bottom of my foot.
The other shocking part of a pedicure is that they like massage your legs. Again, touch from strangers is something I discourage enthusiastically. So when Ali started rubbing stuff on my pudgy lower legs, my eyes bugged out and the air shot out of my lungs. What in tarnation was she doing?! I wanted my toe nails tended to and painted-- that's it! Here she goes exfoliating, massaging, lotioning... I shudder at the thought. AND I hadn't shaved my legs in a day or two, so I'm sure she was cringing as she rubbed my legs.. shoot her hands were probably bleeding. Mortifying.
She finally painted my toes. The green looks less cool than I thought it would, but it's still something new and fun and something I wouldn't have done on my own. Bri and I sat with our toes drying for a good half hour and were on our way. A pedicure is insanely expensive.. the cheapest we found was this place that charged $27 bones. If you think about it, it's a great business for them, but to me it seems asinine to pay someone for torture and toe polish. And of course there's a spot on the receipt for a tip. Don't get me started on tipping. (Don't get me wrong either-- I tip and I think I am a generous tipper-- the IDEA of tipping really irritates me). Despite the price, it was a fun activity with my best friend who is here for such a short time. And even though my toenails are alien green, I feel less ashamed showing my feet in public now. I can't say that I'll be getting another pedicure soon (..or ever..) but, this one was fun, quite the experience.
Friday, July 16, 2010
Saturday, July 10, 2010
Nothing Exciting
I can hardly believe it is already the middle of July. Where in the world has time gone?! Maybe it's because summer weather JUST arrived. And it arrived in quite a dramatic fashion, jumping from 50 degrees to high 90s. I refuse to complain about warm weather, but as much as I dislike extreme cold, extreme heat isn't so much my favorite either. I am learning that I have a Goldie Locks Complex-- not too hot, not too cold..
Regardless of the weather on the 4th of July (rainy and in the 50s), it was by far my favorite Independence Day... ever. Last year for the 4th I was in Chicago and it was nice weather- by the time it was dark, I'd say it was in the high 70s and not super humid so some friends and I went to the top of a parking garage and since it's SO FLAT in the Midwest, we watched fireworks
all around the city from the high view point. It was pretty awesome. This year, we went to a small neighborhood park that overlooks Gasworks Park where the whole city of Seattle seems to flock to watch the fireworks set off over Lake Union (?? or some body of water... there are so many!). They were beautiful and the park was the perfect spot to watch from. I was scheduled to work that night, but signed up for a no-pay, so I ended up getting to be on call for the first 4 hours of my shift, then had to go in at 11pm. While I wish I could have just been off all together, it was SO GREAT to be able to watch fireworks and enjoy the end of the holiday. Totally worth missing the 4 hours of holiday pay.
I've been so eagerly awaiting summer for the past.. seven months, now it's here I almost don't know what to do with myself. I've been working a ton lately.. it seems like all the mandatory education and competency days happen in the summer, and during my several-days-in-a-row OFF stretches. Oh well. Nights are still killing me, but I am sincerely working on my attitude. I didn't get the most recent day position posted, and I was pretty devastated, I won't lie. I may have shed a tear or two over that one.. I was SURE I'd get it! However, my manager informed me (at 6:57am.. after working all night) that I was third in line for the next available day spot. At the time, I was holding and feeding a week old baby for one of my co-workers.. and it was good that I was, otherwise I would have lost my marbles! It took every ounce of my strength and some divine intervention to not have a meltdown right there at the nurses station! Obviously Someone still wants me on nights, so I might as well make the best of it until I can get on days. I just hope the days part happens soon.
I've been sick for the past few days. I'm at the lose-your-voice stage right now... it's really attractive sounding like a trach'd smoker.
Hmm in other news.. I am a soccer coach! A good friend clued me in on an open position to be an assistant coach for a high school varsity women's team. I applied, interviewed and got it! I'm so excited.. it starts in August and I can't wait to have a structured activity again! I'm glad it will be for an assistant coach so I can get my bearings a little bit and not go into high panic if my work schedule conflicts once in a while. Can't wait! AND-- they gave me a jacket, a hoodie, and a long sleeved thermal!
I am looking forward to my trip to Chicago at the end of August for the Alumni game at North Park. We'd better win... haha. It will be so good to see my friends in that city.. both from North Park and my old job. I miss them all quite a bit! While the social scene has picked up quite a bit here in the past month or so, I still remember my Windy City friends fondly and it will be great reuniting.
My apartment has taken a hit from me not being here and then from me being too sick to clean anything.. so I'm off to try and organize the mess... hahaha I love living alone.
Regardless of the weather on the 4th of July (rainy and in the 50s), it was by far my favorite Independence Day... ever. Last year for the 4th I was in Chicago and it was nice weather- by the time it was dark, I'd say it was in the high 70s and not super humid so some friends and I went to the top of a parking garage and since it's SO FLAT in the Midwest, we watched fireworks
all around the city from the high view point. It was pretty awesome. This year, we went to a small neighborhood park that overlooks Gasworks Park where the whole city of Seattle seems to flock to watch the fireworks set off over Lake Union (?? or some body of water... there are so many!). They were beautiful and the park was the perfect spot to watch from. I was scheduled to work that night, but signed up for a no-pay, so I ended up getting to be on call for the first 4 hours of my shift, then had to go in at 11pm. While I wish I could have just been off all together, it was SO GREAT to be able to watch fireworks and enjoy the end of the holiday. Totally worth missing the 4 hours of holiday pay.
I've been so eagerly awaiting summer for the past.. seven months, now it's here I almost don't know what to do with myself. I've been working a ton lately.. it seems like all the mandatory education and competency days happen in the summer, and during my several-days-in-a-row OFF stretches. Oh well. Nights are still killing me, but I am sincerely working on my attitude. I didn't get the most recent day position posted, and I was pretty devastated, I won't lie. I may have shed a tear or two over that one.. I was SURE I'd get it! However, my manager informed me (at 6:57am.. after working all night) that I was third in line for the next available day spot. At the time, I was holding and feeding a week old baby for one of my co-workers.. and it was good that I was, otherwise I would have lost my marbles! It took every ounce of my strength and some divine intervention to not have a meltdown right there at the nurses station! Obviously Someone still wants me on nights, so I might as well make the best of it until I can get on days. I just hope the days part happens soon.
I've been sick for the past few days. I'm at the lose-your-voice stage right now... it's really attractive sounding like a trach'd smoker.
Hmm in other news.. I am a soccer coach! A good friend clued me in on an open position to be an assistant coach for a high school varsity women's team. I applied, interviewed and got it! I'm so excited.. it starts in August and I can't wait to have a structured activity again! I'm glad it will be for an assistant coach so I can get my bearings a little bit and not go into high panic if my work schedule conflicts once in a while. Can't wait! AND-- they gave me a jacket, a hoodie, and a long sleeved thermal!
I am looking forward to my trip to Chicago at the end of August for the Alumni game at North Park. We'd better win... haha. It will be so good to see my friends in that city.. both from North Park and my old job. I miss them all quite a bit! While the social scene has picked up quite a bit here in the past month or so, I still remember my Windy City friends fondly and it will be great reuniting.
My apartment has taken a hit from me not being here and then from me being too sick to clean anything.. so I'm off to try and organize the mess... hahaha I love living alone.
Thursday, July 1, 2010
gRaTeFuL
Things I Have Been Grateful for This Week:
*Sunflowers.
*Genuinely kind, funny, and compassionate coworkers.
*New friends and old friends having a great time in a new city that involved several belly laughs.
*Sun-- even if there is still a chill in the air, it's been sunny.
*Running farther this week than I have in a while.
I am ridiculously blessed and continually surprised at how much I find to gripe about. I've got it pretty good...really good... despite the few things I wish were different. They pale (to the point of translucence) in comparison to the plights of others.
*Sunflowers.
*Genuinely kind, funny, and compassionate coworkers.
*New friends and old friends having a great time in a new city that involved several belly laughs.
*Sun-- even if there is still a chill in the air, it's been sunny.
*Running farther this week than I have in a while.
I am ridiculously blessed and continually surprised at how much I find to gripe about. I've got it pretty good...really good... despite the few things I wish were different. They pale (to the point of translucence) in comparison to the plights of others.
Friday, June 25, 2010
"It's taken care of."
On call shifts are #2 on my list of things I seriously dislike, second only to night shift. I got called in on my call shift last night... only to FLOAT to another floor. It took all of my strength and energy (which was very little considering the time of day-- 11pm) to prevent myself from bursting into tears. My distraught-ness was potentiated by the knowledge that I have to work the next three nights in a row anyway. So, this is my first four in a row on nights stretch, and I'm pretty sure that it will be what kills me. =(
They did just post a day position and I cannot even come close to articulating how essential to my sanity getting that spot is. I am losing my marbles-- they're all pretty much gone.. and this is just the START of my second week on nights.
(I genuinely love my job. And I am genuinely grateful for employment-- especially doing a job that fascinates me and challenges me and is something I feel good and excited about doing. I am very very very fortunate in that realm, and I fully recognize it).
My sister came up last weekend to visit. We had a grand old time. Actually far better than I expected. Saturday night we decided to go out to dinner to a fondue restaurant in Bellevue. She drove up that day and I had slept half the day after working Friday night, so we were both looking slightly scrubby. We went anyway with a 'who cares' attitude. We were smart enough to call and see what the parking situation would be like, but failed to think about making a reservation. It didn't cross my mind as I don't go to places where you need a reservation.. too hoity toity for me and chances are I can't afford it. So we hoof'd it over to Bellevue, and after a lap or two around the block, finally found the mysterious parking garage that had maybe 14 parking spots. Lame! But after circling the place several times, found a spot.
So we walk into the restaurant and we were both really hungry. Nicole walked in first and the host asked "What can I help you with?" This perplexed us. Usually they ask 'How many in your party?' Nicole later put it best: "What do you mean 'what can I help you with?' You can show me my table!" But instead of speaking she just looked at him awkwardly. So I walk in right behind her and without a second thought I say "Two please," and just in case he was hard of hearing or completely inept, I held up two fingers to really drive the point home. "Do you have a reservation?" he inquired. "...Nooope." He sighed and said that it would be a 30 to 45 minute wait. I was too hungry to search for another restaurant (and we brought a coupon for this place!) so we decided to wait it out in the bar.
We shuffled over to the overflow bar area where the bar tender informed us (kindly, not mean) that reservations are a good idea when one dines at this establishment. We were apparently lucky since it was Father's Day weekend, they were a little slow and we only had to wait 30-45 minutes. We shrugged our shoulders and he talked us into an appetizer which neither of us normally orders, but we were so hungry we decided to go for it. It was really good actually-- pesto and brie cheese and they brought crackers, grapes, apples and ...something else to spread it on. I was hesitant but it was delicious. 45 minutes later our table was ready and we cashed out at the bar-- Nicole threw her plastic down before I could, and so I said "okay, I'll pay for dinner then." I hate asking them to split the check. We hoof'd to our table and embraced the menu that offered POTS of melted cheese... and goodies to dunk in it. Seriously, whoever came up with fondue is a genius and should be publicly recognized as so.
This is where it gets ridiculous.
Our waiter (name NOT known.. young looking ..21 or 22 we decided, but cute) came when we were done looking at the menu. I (for no reason) had my menu open to the ridiculously long wine list (it was seriously like four pages of the menu) because we'd been commenting on how insanely expensive the wine was. So Waiter comes up and asks "Would you like a bottle of wine?" I said "..nope," and he gestured to the fact that it was open and I laughed shut it immediately. Then Nicole told him how it was too expensive for us. Classy. He crouched down and was super chatty in the I want a good tip so I'm going to try to befriend you in three minutes way.
Waiter: "What are you ladies up to tonight?"
Me: "She's in town visiting..."
Waiter: "No way, where from?"
Nicole: "Salem, Oregon..."
Waiter: "No way, I grew up in Klamath (?) and went to school at OSU!"
Us: "Awesome."
Waiter: "What else are you going to do tonight?"
-Nicole and I looked at each other and shrugged
Me: "...this is kinda it... I have a coupon!" THROWS coupon in his direction
Waiter: "WHAAAT? You're not taking her out on the town?"
Me: "...um... well... I'm still kinda newer to the area, I don't really know what to show her. Where do you think I should take her?"
Waiter: "oooh hmm.. there's a bowling alley in Capitol Hill that's really cool... wait-- you guys are 21 right???"
Us: fits of laughter
Nicole: "Oh, bless your little heart... yes we're over 21."
Waiter: "That's a cool place, I'm newer to the area, too so I'm trying to think of places.. there are a ton of bars that are good.."
Nicole: eye roll in my direction to which waiter picks up on and gives a confused look
Me: "... yea, the bar scene isn't really my favorite."
Waiter: "oh, do you drink at ALL?"
Me: "I don't NOT drink."
Waiter: "hmmm I'm trying to think of places. I'm not a big drinker, either..."
HE FINALLY DECIDED TO TAKE OUR ORDER
Not long after our melted cheese and delicious dippers (minus the moldy apple) came out and he put on a little show of mixing and melting the queso. He checked in frequently to make sure our dining experience was nothing short of delightful. The coupon I'd brought (brought'n.. hahahaha) was for a free dessert, so he knew to bring the dessert menu. We quickly decided and he brought it out within a few minutes. As he laid out all the insanely delicious things to dip in warm silky milk chocolate, he said "Enjoy, ladies. And it's all taken care of. The cheese, the chocolate.. it's taken care of." And he tossed the coupon back in my direction. Nicole and I were in a cheese coma and getting ready to embrace chocolate euphoria on top of it, so we were just like "Okay thanks..." But like two seconds after he walked away our brows simultaneously furrowed. "It's taken care of?" WHAT DOES THAT MEAN?!
We spent the next ... twenty minutes trying to figure out what he was talking about as we embraced the chocolate-y goodness.
"Nicole, you need to CLARIFY what he means!" I hissed. She of course refused to do anything so logical. She insisted that means that we didn't have to pay for our meal and I was so confused as to WHY. (still am). We weren't heinous looking, but we weren't drop-dead-give-them-their-meal-free-gorgeous either.. what on EARTH made someone give us a free meal? Maybe between complaining about the pricey wine and chucking my coupon at him, Waiter decided to do his good deed for the day... I just don't know! So we were in quite the quirky mood by this point-- I'm pretty sure they spiked the chocolate, we couldn't stop giggling. It was SO MUCH FUN-- my sister and I fight far too much, and it was insanely refreshing to laugh with her for a whole night.
As we finished the chocolate fondue-- no dipper left behind, Waiter brings out slightly smaller pots of the dark chocolate and white chocolate fondue with extra dippers. Our eyes got huge as he said "And I brought you some extra goodies too!" I didn't know whether to laugh or cry-- I was SO FULL. But what sensible woman says "No thank you" to a pot full of chocolate with strawberries begging to be dunked?! So we went at it. We still didn't know what to do about "It's taken care of." Waiter kept checking in more and more frequently to see what he could get us.
As we lost steam on the second round of dessert, he came by and asked how it was blah blah blah and reiterated: "And it's alllllllllllll taken care of, you guys are set." I said "...really?" And he said "Yes, absolutely. It's taken care of." So we gave due thanks and he walked away. PERPLEXED. NAUSEOUS. STUPID HAPPY. So my genius sister convinced me (I blame drunkeness by chocolate) to leave my phone number for our generous Waiter and we left him a hefty tip. Shoot, if we were getting out of what would have been a very pricey meal, the least we could do was tip appropriately. I figured one of three things could happen:
1) Nothing at all.
2) He would call or text me and there are worse thing in the world than attractive young men calling me.
3) We totally misinterpreted what "It's taken care of" means, we walked away without paying AND they had my phone number to give to the police.
My new motto is 'without risk there's no reward,' so I made Nicole be the lookout as I scribbled my digits on a scrap piece of paper (he NEVER brought us a check!) and as I laid it on the table I insisted we leave IMMEDIATELY. The only thing more embarrassing than leaving your phone number in a public place is being caught by whoever you're leaving it for. So we scampered out like school children and burst into laughter as soon as we got out the door. We waddled to the car, decided to go bowling on a different day and made it back to my apartment without tossing our delicious fondue cookies.
It was a fun weekend and I'm glad she came up. No word from Waiter yet, but no word from the police, either. Fine by me.
They did just post a day position and I cannot even come close to articulating how essential to my sanity getting that spot is. I am losing my marbles-- they're all pretty much gone.. and this is just the START of my second week on nights.
(I genuinely love my job. And I am genuinely grateful for employment-- especially doing a job that fascinates me and challenges me and is something I feel good and excited about doing. I am very very very fortunate in that realm, and I fully recognize it).
My sister came up last weekend to visit. We had a grand old time. Actually far better than I expected. Saturday night we decided to go out to dinner to a fondue restaurant in Bellevue. She drove up that day and I had slept half the day after working Friday night, so we were both looking slightly scrubby. We went anyway with a 'who cares' attitude. We were smart enough to call and see what the parking situation would be like, but failed to think about making a reservation. It didn't cross my mind as I don't go to places where you need a reservation.. too hoity toity for me and chances are I can't afford it. So we hoof'd it over to Bellevue, and after a lap or two around the block, finally found the mysterious parking garage that had maybe 14 parking spots. Lame! But after circling the place several times, found a spot.
So we walk into the restaurant and we were both really hungry. Nicole walked in first and the host asked "What can I help you with?" This perplexed us. Usually they ask 'How many in your party?' Nicole later put it best: "What do you mean 'what can I help you with?' You can show me my table!" But instead of speaking she just looked at him awkwardly. So I walk in right behind her and without a second thought I say "Two please," and just in case he was hard of hearing or completely inept, I held up two fingers to really drive the point home. "Do you have a reservation?" he inquired. "...Nooope." He sighed and said that it would be a 30 to 45 minute wait. I was too hungry to search for another restaurant (and we brought a coupon for this place!) so we decided to wait it out in the bar.
We shuffled over to the overflow bar area where the bar tender informed us (kindly, not mean) that reservations are a good idea when one dines at this establishment. We were apparently lucky since it was Father's Day weekend, they were a little slow and we only had to wait 30-45 minutes. We shrugged our shoulders and he talked us into an appetizer which neither of us normally orders, but we were so hungry we decided to go for it. It was really good actually-- pesto and brie cheese and they brought crackers, grapes, apples and ...something else to spread it on. I was hesitant but it was delicious. 45 minutes later our table was ready and we cashed out at the bar-- Nicole threw her plastic down before I could, and so I said "okay, I'll pay for dinner then." I hate asking them to split the check. We hoof'd to our table and embraced the menu that offered POTS of melted cheese... and goodies to dunk in it. Seriously, whoever came up with fondue is a genius and should be publicly recognized as so.
This is where it gets ridiculous.
Our waiter (name NOT known.. young looking ..21 or 22 we decided, but cute) came when we were done looking at the menu. I (for no reason) had my menu open to the ridiculously long wine list (it was seriously like four pages of the menu) because we'd been commenting on how insanely expensive the wine was. So Waiter comes up and asks "Would you like a bottle of wine?" I said "..nope," and he gestured to the fact that it was open and I laughed shut it immediately. Then Nicole told him how it was too expensive for us. Classy. He crouched down and was super chatty in the I want a good tip so I'm going to try to befriend you in three minutes way.
Waiter: "What are you ladies up to tonight?"
Me: "She's in town visiting..."
Waiter: "No way, where from?"
Nicole: "Salem, Oregon..."
Waiter: "No way, I grew up in Klamath (?) and went to school at OSU!"
Us: "Awesome."
Waiter: "What else are you going to do tonight?"
-Nicole and I looked at each other and shrugged
Me: "...this is kinda it... I have a coupon!" THROWS coupon in his direction
Waiter: "WHAAAT? You're not taking her out on the town?"
Me: "...um... well... I'm still kinda newer to the area, I don't really know what to show her. Where do you think I should take her?"
Waiter: "oooh hmm.. there's a bowling alley in Capitol Hill that's really cool... wait-- you guys are 21 right???"
Us: fits of laughter
Nicole: "Oh, bless your little heart... yes we're over 21."
Waiter: "That's a cool place, I'm newer to the area, too so I'm trying to think of places.. there are a ton of bars that are good.."
Nicole: eye roll in my direction to which waiter picks up on and gives a confused look
Me: "... yea, the bar scene isn't really my favorite."
Waiter: "oh, do you drink at ALL?"
Me: "I don't NOT drink."
Waiter: "hmmm I'm trying to think of places. I'm not a big drinker, either..."
HE FINALLY DECIDED TO TAKE OUR ORDER
Not long after our melted cheese and delicious dippers (minus the moldy apple) came out and he put on a little show of mixing and melting the queso. He checked in frequently to make sure our dining experience was nothing short of delightful. The coupon I'd brought (brought'n.. hahahaha) was for a free dessert, so he knew to bring the dessert menu. We quickly decided and he brought it out within a few minutes. As he laid out all the insanely delicious things to dip in warm silky milk chocolate, he said "Enjoy, ladies. And it's all taken care of. The cheese, the chocolate.. it's taken care of." And he tossed the coupon back in my direction. Nicole and I were in a cheese coma and getting ready to embrace chocolate euphoria on top of it, so we were just like "Okay thanks..." But like two seconds after he walked away our brows simultaneously furrowed. "It's taken care of?" WHAT DOES THAT MEAN?!
We spent the next ... twenty minutes trying to figure out what he was talking about as we embraced the chocolate-y goodness.
"Nicole, you need to CLARIFY what he means!" I hissed. She of course refused to do anything so logical. She insisted that means that we didn't have to pay for our meal and I was so confused as to WHY. (still am). We weren't heinous looking, but we weren't drop-dead-give-them-their-meal-free-gorgeous either.. what on EARTH made someone give us a free meal? Maybe between complaining about the pricey wine and chucking my coupon at him, Waiter decided to do his good deed for the day... I just don't know! So we were in quite the quirky mood by this point-- I'm pretty sure they spiked the chocolate, we couldn't stop giggling. It was SO MUCH FUN-- my sister and I fight far too much, and it was insanely refreshing to laugh with her for a whole night.
As we finished the chocolate fondue-- no dipper left behind, Waiter brings out slightly smaller pots of the dark chocolate and white chocolate fondue with extra dippers. Our eyes got huge as he said "And I brought you some extra goodies too!" I didn't know whether to laugh or cry-- I was SO FULL. But what sensible woman says "No thank you" to a pot full of chocolate with strawberries begging to be dunked?! So we went at it. We still didn't know what to do about "It's taken care of." Waiter kept checking in more and more frequently to see what he could get us.
As we lost steam on the second round of dessert, he came by and asked how it was blah blah blah and reiterated: "And it's alllllllllllll taken care of, you guys are set." I said "...really?" And he said "Yes, absolutely. It's taken care of." So we gave due thanks and he walked away. PERPLEXED. NAUSEOUS. STUPID HAPPY. So my genius sister convinced me (I blame drunkeness by chocolate) to leave my phone number for our generous Waiter and we left him a hefty tip. Shoot, if we were getting out of what would have been a very pricey meal, the least we could do was tip appropriately. I figured one of three things could happen:
1) Nothing at all.
2) He would call or text me and there are worse thing in the world than attractive young men calling me.
3) We totally misinterpreted what "It's taken care of" means, we walked away without paying AND they had my phone number to give to the police.
My new motto is 'without risk there's no reward,' so I made Nicole be the lookout as I scribbled my digits on a scrap piece of paper (he NEVER brought us a check!) and as I laid it on the table I insisted we leave IMMEDIATELY. The only thing more embarrassing than leaving your phone number in a public place is being caught by whoever you're leaving it for. So we scampered out like school children and burst into laughter as soon as we got out the door. We waddled to the car, decided to go bowling on a different day and made it back to my apartment without tossing our delicious fondue cookies.
It was a fun weekend and I'm glad she came up. No word from Waiter yet, but no word from the police, either. Fine by me.
Friday, June 18, 2010
Thursday, June 17, 2010
Blinking Bug Bites
**EDIT** Shout out to David-- who introduced me to Hyperbole and a Half. I swear this person is me. When reading her posts I think "omg-- that's ME." it's uncanny.. check it out.
It is a shame that posting work-related stories on here is frowned upon.
Night shift and my ability to cope with it inevitably create situations that to the outside audience would undoubtedly be humorous.
That's all I have to say about that. Well, actually not-- I have a lot more, but will bite my tongue (...fingers...?)
I will say this:
-I have 24 bug bites. "What in the world from?" you might ask. From playing a riveting game of disc golf (aka Frisbee golf, frolf, etc). Last Sunday it was so nice out, so a friend and some friends of a friend went down by SeaTac to an 18 basket disc golf course. (Confession: I had no idea such courses existed). It took SEVERAL (read: more than five) hours to complete the course due to me not knowing how to efficiently or effectively throw a disc (don't dare call it a Frisbee..) to save my life. I was grateful for the other disc golf newbie who at the beginning shared the burden of 'that girl' who is really bad. But alas, it was her second time playing and she started to catch on about 6 baskets in. For the remaining twelve, I was the reason that each basket took a RIDICULOUS amount of time. My fellow disc golfers were pretty nice about it, though.. offering tips or showing me different ways to throw. For the record, before agreeing to go I said "I'm a kicker, not a thrower. I don't want to be a wet blanket, I've NEVER played before, and you guys are super good.." But the invitation to play stood, and I had no other plans for the sunny Sunday. So while I felt bad, I gave fair warning to at least one person in the party. ANYWAY-- those bug bites itch with FURY. Also, they blink like Christmas lights. They go from pink to white to pink to white to pink to white with my pulse. It's quite a freak show let me tell you. I am grateful that the majority of them are on my legs where my scrubs cover them for work. Wouldn't that be the treat-- the night shift nurse with blinking bug bites slinking into your room at 4am to take your vital signs. Geez louise.
-One of my good friends from high school is currently staying with me while she looks for an apartment in Seattle. She's moving here and it is SO EXCITING. I have really enjoyed having her company around and am genuinely looking forward to having an old friend here!
-I feel like I have more to say but that will have to be all for now. I need to try to squeeze a run in (no matter how half hearted it may be) before working tonight. ...night-shift is a swear word to me. But you all know how I feel about it so I will withhold my ranting for the time being.
It is a shame that posting work-related stories on here is frowned upon.
Night shift and my ability to cope with it inevitably create situations that to the outside audience would undoubtedly be humorous.
That's all I have to say about that. Well, actually not-- I have a lot more, but will bite my tongue (...fingers...?)
I will say this:
-I have 24 bug bites. "What in the world from?" you might ask. From playing a riveting game of disc golf (aka Frisbee golf, frolf, etc). Last Sunday it was so nice out, so a friend and some friends of a friend went down by SeaTac to an 18 basket disc golf course. (Confession: I had no idea such courses existed). It took SEVERAL (read: more than five) hours to complete the course due to me not knowing how to efficiently or effectively throw a disc (don't dare call it a Frisbee..) to save my life. I was grateful for the other disc golf newbie who at the beginning shared the burden of 'that girl' who is really bad. But alas, it was her second time playing and she started to catch on about 6 baskets in. For the remaining twelve, I was the reason that each basket took a RIDICULOUS amount of time. My fellow disc golfers were pretty nice about it, though.. offering tips or showing me different ways to throw. For the record, before agreeing to go I said "I'm a kicker, not a thrower. I don't want to be a wet blanket, I've NEVER played before, and you guys are super good.." But the invitation to play stood, and I had no other plans for the sunny Sunday. So while I felt bad, I gave fair warning to at least one person in the party. ANYWAY-- those bug bites itch with FURY. Also, they blink like Christmas lights. They go from pink to white to pink to white to pink to white with my pulse. It's quite a freak show let me tell you. I am grateful that the majority of them are on my legs where my scrubs cover them for work. Wouldn't that be the treat-- the night shift nurse with blinking bug bites slinking into your room at 4am to take your vital signs. Geez louise.
-One of my good friends from high school is currently staying with me while she looks for an apartment in Seattle. She's moving here and it is SO EXCITING. I have really enjoyed having her company around and am genuinely looking forward to having an old friend here!
-I feel like I have more to say but that will have to be all for now. I need to try to squeeze a run in (no matter how half hearted it may be) before working tonight. ...night-shift is a swear word to me. But you all know how I feel about it so I will withhold my ranting for the time being.
Saturday, June 12, 2010
Night Shift Blues
I am getting ready for my last day shift for six weeks. It is a tragic tragic tragic time.
I would rather have gloomy weather forever than work night shift.
I would rather eat this skin off a raw onion every day for breakfast than work night shift.
I would rather clip the toenails of a 90 year old man with a gnarly foot fungus than work night shift.
I would rather shave my head and eat all my hair than work night shift.
..Give me straight days or give me death.
I like interacting with my patients and their families. While the challenge of being a 'silent ninja' is slightly entertaining for a while, it is not enough to make night shift worth it. Yea, there are fun coworkers on night shift, but I am too beside myself due to the time of day to enjoy any of them. It is far from ideal.
Needless to say I haven't gotten any of the day shift positions I've applied for. It has been a great run on days. I made two patients my primaries and I love 'em. And I've learned SO MUCH on days-- it's crazy. Being involved in rounds makes a world of difference. Waaah, I'm really going to miss the chaos.
I would rather have gloomy weather forever than work night shift.
I would rather eat this skin off a raw onion every day for breakfast than work night shift.
I would rather clip the toenails of a 90 year old man with a gnarly foot fungus than work night shift.
I would rather shave my head and eat all my hair than work night shift.
..Give me straight days or give me death.
I like interacting with my patients and their families. While the challenge of being a 'silent ninja' is slightly entertaining for a while, it is not enough to make night shift worth it. Yea, there are fun coworkers on night shift, but I am too beside myself due to the time of day to enjoy any of them. It is far from ideal.
Needless to say I haven't gotten any of the day shift positions I've applied for. It has been a great run on days. I made two patients my primaries and I love 'em. And I've learned SO MUCH on days-- it's crazy. Being involved in rounds makes a world of difference. Waaah, I'm really going to miss the chaos.
Monday, June 7, 2010
Please knock
My gym. Ugh.
I frequent an express version of my gym. Meaning it has less equipment and classes, no locker rooms and that, despite its name, it isn't actually open 24 hours a day. I am not sure how much longer I can grin and bear it. But, I don't know what other options are practical, especially in the financial department.
So this morning I went to the gym. I went to use the restroom before I got going (a last ditch procrastination effort...). There are four individual bathrooms in one hallway. I appreciate the individual part-- I've never been a fan of stalls. The doors have locks on them which is really good because instead of knocking on a closed door, people just wail on the handle and jiggle it furiously until they piece together that that particular bathroom is occupied.
I have a nervous bladder. If I know someone can hear me pee, I freeze up no matter how badly I have to go. This condition has taken on a new twist while at the gym. I am so terrified of two situations:
1) I forget to lock the door
2) The handle breaks (which judging by how aggressively some patrons open doors is bound to happen sooner than later).
So now, even though no one can hear me go, I get stage fright. I know that the second I let loose, some meat head is going to come barging through the door and see me in my half naked squatting glory (I'm a hover-er in public places... especially the gym, they're bad at cleaning). The anxiety of using the bathrooms at this place is enough to give one's heart a cardio workout without boarding a treadmill or bouncing along on an elliptical.
What happened to good old fashioned knocking?! This is how I approach the bathrooms:
1) Soft knock
2) If no answer, try the handle; if answer, move on.
It's really one of the simplest two step processes EVER. SERIOUSLY PEOPLE.
I frequent an express version of my gym. Meaning it has less equipment and classes, no locker rooms and that, despite its name, it isn't actually open 24 hours a day. I am not sure how much longer I can grin and bear it. But, I don't know what other options are practical, especially in the financial department.
So this morning I went to the gym. I went to use the restroom before I got going (a last ditch procrastination effort...). There are four individual bathrooms in one hallway. I appreciate the individual part-- I've never been a fan of stalls. The doors have locks on them which is really good because instead of knocking on a closed door, people just wail on the handle and jiggle it furiously until they piece together that that particular bathroom is occupied.
I have a nervous bladder. If I know someone can hear me pee, I freeze up no matter how badly I have to go. This condition has taken on a new twist while at the gym. I am so terrified of two situations:
1) I forget to lock the door
2) The handle breaks (which judging by how aggressively some patrons open doors is bound to happen sooner than later).
So now, even though no one can hear me go, I get stage fright. I know that the second I let loose, some meat head is going to come barging through the door and see me in my half naked squatting glory (I'm a hover-er in public places... especially the gym, they're bad at cleaning). The anxiety of using the bathrooms at this place is enough to give one's heart a cardio workout without boarding a treadmill or bouncing along on an elliptical.
What happened to good old fashioned knocking?! This is how I approach the bathrooms:
1) Soft knock
2) If no answer, try the handle; if answer, move on.
It's really one of the simplest two step processes EVER. SERIOUSLY PEOPLE.
Thursday, May 27, 2010
Youth on Age
Hiking. It is something I have been longing to do for the past ...six ish years. As soon as I left the west (best) coast after high school, I came to appreciate the nature it holds, and started hating myself for not taking advantage of it for the 18 years I lived here before venturing off into the flat wasteland known as the Midwest.
A couple of weeks ago the weather was actually awesome. I googled 'free seattle hikes' and found the Issaquah Alps Trail Club. I saw "free guided hikes" and was floored-- I would love to go for a hike by myself, but I don't know any trails and I refuse to be that clown on the news who is lost for 12 days after hiking in a new place all alone. The fact that these people would guide me on a hike-- for FREE-- was very exciting.
A couple of weeks ago the weather was actually awesome. I googled 'free seattle hikes' and found the Issaquah Alps Trail Club. I saw "free guided hikes" and was floored-- I would love to go for a hike by myself, but I don't know any trails and I refuse to be that clown on the news who is lost for 12 days after hiking in a new place all alone. The fact that these people would guide me on a hike-- for FREE-- was very exciting.
I roped in a friend (pictured above) from college who was in Seattle, home on summer break before heading to Alaska for the summer. I packed all the things the website said were required-- even though it was mid 70s without a cloud in the sky, I put a garbage bag in my pack to act as 'rain gear.' I was so nervous they would say "you can't go" if I didn't have everything on the list. The hike we chose was described as follows: "Echo Mountain- interesting plants and views of Mt. Rainier, 5 miles, 600' gain." It was estimated to take 4 hours and have 'some climbing/difficulty.' So I was slightly nervous-- What if I'm too out of shape? What if I hold the group back? I don't want to be that kid. I resolved to try it anyway and hope at least one person was in worse shape than me. After much planning and packing, I went to bed the night before with three alarms set, so as to not oversleep.
I picked up my friend on the way, and then we got there more than an hour early. I have a serious getting-there-early problem. We found a Starbucks to pass the time-- all the while my anxiety grew. People in Seattle are kinda serious about their hiking. I've only met the kind that climb real mountains-- with ice picks and stuff. They're the crazy people who have to train for their climbs because the climbs are so insane. They're the unfortunate ones who fall in the ice crevasses and survive for days drinking their own urine and chewing the buttons of their coat. Who am I to be hiking with them? I'm just a pudgy girl escaping from the Midwest, they're going to laugh me back to Chicago. WHAT AM I THINKING?!?!? Had I been alone, I probably would have gone home and wallowed in self pity-- but I wasn't. I dragged my friend out of bed at an ungodly hour, so I had to follow through. So we left Starbucks (early of course) and arrived at the 'club house.' We got out of the car and waited. We were the first ones there. I was nervous that we were at the wrong spot or that we missed the group (which was impossible, we were still like ten minutes early). We saw another lady looking at a sign by the building and I asked her if she was there for the hike. She said yes, and I was relieved that we were in the right spot. Then I really saw her. She was in her 50s (ish?), wearing long pants-- normal pants... like khaki pants... had a heavier coat on with big boots, a hat and sunglasses. My friend and I were in shorts and at-shirts with running shoes. Hmm, she must be in good shape to go on this hike at her age. More people started trickling in and an overwhelming theme emerged: old. Everybody there was a grandparent. WHAT? This is a senior citizen event! Truthfully, I was relieved.. if these people could handle this hike, then surely I could too! I'd better be able to. An older gentleman who was somewhat in charge came and told my friend and I that our shoes would be okay for this hike, but if we planned to do more hikes with them in the future, we needed hiking boots due to the slippery nature of the trails. I suppose its a valid point, but I couldn't help thinking if these arthritic clowns can handle the slippery trails, I think I'll be fine in my running shoes thank you very much. So we congregated when Betty (pictured below), our leader (age... 70? I'm not kidding) arrived. She gave some shotty directions to the trail head (which, btw, I still don't understand why we didn't just meet there... as it was like a 30 minute drive from the clubhouse..) So we get there and Betty starts talking. 
She starts talking a little bit about the area. I am surprised at how knowledgeable she is about the hike and how involved she is in the preservation efforts and what not. Totally a sharp 70 year old lady-- and I can only hope that I am that spry when I age. She warns us to stay together as people have gotten lost before, but "Paul finally made it home..." What?! I had visions of some poor elderly man wandering through the forest for days on end and then finally emerging out of the forest back at the trail head only to see that his group had deserted him and he had to walk all the way home. It was so hard to contain my fits of laughter. Everything anybody said that had any potential of being comical was a MILLION TIMES funnier (is that a word?) because they were so... aged. Don't get me wrong-- I have a ton of respect for the elderly in our society and think they are very wise and have a lot to offer to younger generations. Hooray for elderly! And-- my friend and I stuck out like sore thumbs-- we looked like we were headed to the gym, while everyone else was in pretty normal clothing-- button up shirts and 'slacks,' and ...fanny packs (not that those are normal on ANY level).
Betty also announced that this was a "flower hike." A what??? Apparently we would be stopping to identify different flowers and plants along the way, and not to worry, Betty had her book so we could look up the ones we weren't sure about. A flower hike? What did I get myself into?! I exchanged looks of 'wtf' with my friend and we started hiking. Several of our hike mates whipped out their ski poles to help them along the rugged terrain. We stopped every 7th step or so to identify a new (or the same) flower. The first we saw was Youth on Age (pictured below). 
(*Youth on Age)*
How ironic. How fitting for the dynamic of this group. I glanced up to the Heavens and shot a "Really?" prayer up to the Big Guy. So we continued on. Every third flower we saw was Youth on Age. "Oh there's some Youth on Age!" Betty would bellow and it'd pass along the line of hikers.
I was in a state of shock at the whole situation. I'd invested so much energy in being a nervous nellie for this hike. I was convinced I wouldn't make it and would have to borrow someone's inhaler.. or call for a rescue ranger to come escort me down the mountain when I couldn't keep up with the group. But here I was, looking at flowers with other people's grandparents.. and probably great grandparents. I was just ... flabbergasted. How did I not see this coming? But I couldn't have seen it-- that's what happens when you embrace activities you find on Google. It was all I could do to not die laughing the whole way up. Of course I'd land myself in a senior citizen hike-- it's only natural. I really had to keep my sarcasm in check though-- so many doors were flinging open all around me, begging for a wisecrack, but I was sure my comments wouldn't be appreciated. That was probably the hardest part. 
*(Stopping-- again-- to look at flowers) *
So in about... two hours we made it up the roughly 2 mile 'mountain.' It was beautiful-- I love nature. Trees-- lots of flowers-- sun... it was awesome. I couldn't help but think "this would be awesome to run up," and then I remembered that I can't run to save my life. We made it to the top and had a beautiful view of Mt. Rainier. We stayed up there for about 20 minutes and everyone ate their lunch. My friend and I released all the funny comments we'd been holding back on the way up and prepared for the way down. 
*(If you look real hard you can see Mt. Rainier...)*
This was the complete opposite of a bad day-- just so unexpected! It was gorgeous weather and the other hikers were very friendly. I met a running enthusiast and we bonded over our knee pain! Ha!
At one point someone asked my friend and me if we had the day off of school and I was like "..no I have the day off of work," and naturally they asked what I do. I hate revealing that I am a nurse in any group environment because I feel like if some medical emergency were to happen, it'd fall on me to fix it. Sure there's the oath I took that already obligates me to do so, but still I hate announcing it. NOT TO MENTION I was hiking with people who are at a prime age for medical issues to explode. Fortunately we made it down the hill without any medical event. However-- they started EATING THE PLANTS! "If it's the one I'm thinking, it should taste like black licorice," Betty rattled. I watched in horror as person after person chomped down on the strange plant trying to figure out what I'd have to tell the 9-1-1 dispatcher when they all were doubled over with abdominal pain unable to hike to their cars to seek medical attention themselves. One guy even ate a mushroom. I figure he was suicidal. 
* (My new runner friend. I tried to get out of him if he had any grandsons-- no dice.)*
All in all, a great day outside in nature. But also a day that caught me TOTALLY off guard. We finally made it back to our car and I was ready to peel outta there. As I put my car in reverse Betty popped up at my window to make sure we knew how to get back. She scared the living daylights outta me! Seriously-- what a day. "Oh look! Youth on Age!"
Monday, May 24, 2010
ROTFL
*Eleven days after my decision to embrace prolonged sun exposure without skin protection, I am still peeling. I sat outside on a Thursday, and worked Saturday-Monday. Babies don't care that you're sunburnt-- they'll grab you and scratch you and give you baby lovin' no matter how bad it hurts. Lesson learned? ... let's be honest-- probably not.
*Ridiculous things continue to happen to me, and I am convinced that God's throne is empty because he is rolling on the heavenly floor laughing at me.
*I applied for a straight days position and was not senior enough to get it. I noticed another straight days position open that is different-- I'd float between my current floor and the other surgical unit floor. I hesitated for about twenty minutes then decided to apply anyway. I like my floor and am not overly enthusiastic about things on the other floor, but I will do close to anything to not have to work nights.
*My foot hurts.
*Ridiculous things continue to happen to me, and I am convinced that God's throne is empty because he is rolling on the heavenly floor laughing at me.
*I applied for a straight days position and was not senior enough to get it. I noticed another straight days position open that is different-- I'd float between my current floor and the other surgical unit floor. I hesitated for about twenty minutes then decided to apply anyway. I like my floor and am not overly enthusiastic about things on the other floor, but I will do close to anything to not have to work nights.
*My foot hurts.
*It has been a year and a half since I've had a haircut, and the only reason it happened then is because I chopped off 12 inches to donate therefore it was free. I am mortified at how much it costs to get a decent haircut nowadays-- not to mention that a tip is expected. I have issues with the great-clips, super-cuts places. They ruined me in middleschool. Looks like I will be getting haircuts bi-annually as that's how long it takes this mop to grow long enough to donate.
*Coming up on the six month mark of when I moved here has caused me to be somewhat reflective. I made this as I thought about what's gone down over the past half a year.
Thursday, May 13, 2010
Freak Lobster
I love the sun. I love everything about it. I love feeling warm from it, I love how it makes colors brighter and people happier. I cannot get enough of it. I also love how it makes my skin tanner. Vain? Very. I'm over it. However, to achieve the tan-ness that I long for during winter months, some trial and error is usually required. Today was a major error.
Since starting day shift last week, I have so much more energy during the day and fall asleep at much more appropriate times at night (not in the wee hours of the morning). Today it is 72 degrees outside without a single cloud in the sky. I knew this miracle was coming, thanks to weather.com. I woke up early this morning to get to the gym and then came home, put a tank top and flip flops on and walked to the Starbucks that is approximately a quarter of a mile from my apartment. I used a gift card to get an iced green tea then took up residence at one of their outdoor tables. I brought two books (in case one bored me). I started reading and stayed there for four hours. HA! Ironically, I am really not a fan of reading. I could feel my skin soaking up the glorious UV rays. I could see the little shadows of heat waves rising behind me. And I loved it. Every second. I masochistically welcomed the almost burning sensation on my arms and legs. BRING ON THE SUN. It has been a long winter of pasty paleness and I am soo ready to give that up. So I sat and took a good chunk out of a book I've been trying to get into for awhile, did some serious eaves dropping and peopel watching (two of my new favorite activities..). Before I knew it it was four hours later. I moved my arm and my watch slid down my wrist. I then noticed the BRIGHT WHITE skin that was under my watch and how it contrasted with the skin around it. Uhoh. I wanted to ignore it so I finished the chapter and then decided I should probably put an end to the charade. I walked home in a warm and peaceful state of euphoria. I love the sun. It warms my soul. It's like a hug without anyone having to touch you hahahaha. I walked into my apartment still feeling tranquil-- first stop the bathroom-- four hours and a caffeinated beverage will take their toll. I glanced at the mirror and my zen was rudely interrupted by alarm. RED. Not a pink rosy glow, BRIGHT RED. But not everywhere-- my neck remains amazingly white, apparently I put my head down while reading?! WTF. I pulled my tank top to the side to reveal a THICK white strip of skin. I hate the sun. It's turned me into a freak lobster. My skin is going to fall off. I will be outcast like a leper! My panic increased when I realized that it's going to get worse before it gets better. If I'm this red now, give it six hours and the blisters will appear probably accompanied by eschar tissue and I'll have to go to the ER for amputations. Then I'll lose my job because who wants the 6 fingered nurse whose skin is falling off?! ... So.. I'm on my way to the store to get some aloe-- a fat lot of good that stuff does, but better than nothing I suppose. And I think I might invest in sunscreen. I've always hated the stuff-- quite a lot actually. It's greasy and it maintains my pasty pigment. There's gotta be some compromise between the lobster leper and the pale translucence I've displayed all winter. We'll see. For now I will be dealing with this:
Since starting day shift last week, I have so much more energy during the day and fall asleep at much more appropriate times at night (not in the wee hours of the morning). Today it is 72 degrees outside without a single cloud in the sky. I knew this miracle was coming, thanks to weather.com. I woke up early this morning to get to the gym and then came home, put a tank top and flip flops on and walked to the Starbucks that is approximately a quarter of a mile from my apartment. I used a gift card to get an iced green tea then took up residence at one of their outdoor tables. I brought two books (in case one bored me). I started reading and stayed there for four hours. HA! Ironically, I am really not a fan of reading. I could feel my skin soaking up the glorious UV rays. I could see the little shadows of heat waves rising behind me. And I loved it. Every second. I masochistically welcomed the almost burning sensation on my arms and legs. BRING ON THE SUN. It has been a long winter of pasty paleness and I am soo ready to give that up. So I sat and took a good chunk out of a book I've been trying to get into for awhile, did some serious eaves dropping and peopel watching (two of my new favorite activities..). Before I knew it it was four hours later. I moved my arm and my watch slid down my wrist. I then noticed the BRIGHT WHITE skin that was under my watch and how it contrasted with the skin around it. Uhoh. I wanted to ignore it so I finished the chapter and then decided I should probably put an end to the charade. I walked home in a warm and peaceful state of euphoria. I love the sun. It warms my soul. It's like a hug without anyone having to touch you hahahaha. I walked into my apartment still feeling tranquil-- first stop the bathroom-- four hours and a caffeinated beverage will take their toll. I glanced at the mirror and my zen was rudely interrupted by alarm. RED. Not a pink rosy glow, BRIGHT RED. But not everywhere-- my neck remains amazingly white, apparently I put my head down while reading?! WTF. I pulled my tank top to the side to reveal a THICK white strip of skin. I hate the sun. It's turned me into a freak lobster. My skin is going to fall off. I will be outcast like a leper! My panic increased when I realized that it's going to get worse before it gets better. If I'm this red now, give it six hours and the blisters will appear probably accompanied by eschar tissue and I'll have to go to the ER for amputations. Then I'll lose my job because who wants the 6 fingered nurse whose skin is falling off?! ... So.. I'm on my way to the store to get some aloe-- a fat lot of good that stuff does, but better than nothing I suppose. And I think I might invest in sunscreen. I've always hated the stuff-- quite a lot actually. It's greasy and it maintains my pasty pigment. There's gotta be some compromise between the lobster leper and the pale translucence I've displayed all winter. We'll see. For now I will be dealing with this:
Monday, May 10, 2010
Kujo
Running. It's essentially a swear word to me.
Regardless, I forced myself out on the country roads when I went home this weekend for a surprise mothers day visit. I dilly dallied Sunday morning and waited for prime tanning time (which I've declared to be between 11am and 2pm). So I waddled down my driveway onto the little dead end street which apparently is a hill. I was trying to decide between the three mile loop and the almost five mile loop. A-top the 'hill' I thought "uhh three mile loop-- duh." However, to get to both loops you go down a SUPER steep hill. By the bottom I was like "oh... I'm okay, I can do the almost-five." Wrong sauce. The hills are ridiculous. Regardless of the route, there are hills everywhere and they are so steep and so long. I am not one to swear like a sailor but I find myself cursing each hill the ENTIRE time it takes me to shuffle up it and even for a while after. So here I go on this just about five mile loop-- once atop the first hill I seriously considered turning back. Then I realized that I'd hate myself if I did, so I pushed on. How dramatic am I-- it's not like I was a pioneer on the Oregon Trail that just lost an oxen to the harsh weather conditions while I wasted away from Dysentery.. but it kinda felt like it... I turned to a gravel road which is my favorite part of that run because it's at a super slight downhill for most of it.. So there I am trotting along like an escapee from fat camp, rocking out to some angsty Kelly Clarkson... and all of the sudden out of the corner of my eye I see a LARGE dog LUNGING AT ME. Only after I saw it did I hear it barking viciously. Funny, I thought. This dog has no leash... this dog has no owner apologizing frantically for the its ferocious antics... NOT FUNNY. Panicked, I pushed its nose away and breathlessly said "Hi Puppy..." and booked it down the road. You're lame, self-- you couldn't out run this dog to save your life. Surrender now. Fortunately I gave that little self depreciating voice the mental middle finger and kept going until I couldn't hear Kujo barking anymore. So I escaped without rabies, but it scared the living day lights out of me! The rest of the run was terrible, as the adrenaline quickly stopped flowing and I still had a sickly huge hill to climb. I would be lying if I denied a walk break or two.
When I woke up before dawn this morning to get back to Seattle before my call shift (I caved on calling in.. such a wuss), I could barely get out of bed-- not due to exhaustion and the wee hour of the morning-- due to ridiculously sore legs. It's sad really. There was a time that I'd rejoice in the lactic acid and think "awesome that means I'm working hard," but now I think "EFF that hurts!" I have no intention of doing that loop again in the near future to get better at it.. I have little intention of running outside really. So it seems all for naught. HOW DO I GET OUTTA THIS FUNK!? Seriously, it seems way more mental than anything and you'd think that would be the easiest to fix because it's your mind, you have complete control-- but let me tell you it is far from easy. Don't get me wrong, my lack of cardiovascular endurance and muscle strength is no help either.. but seriouslyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy. I'm soo irritated.
Regardless, I forced myself out on the country roads when I went home this weekend for a surprise mothers day visit. I dilly dallied Sunday morning and waited for prime tanning time (which I've declared to be between 11am and 2pm). So I waddled down my driveway onto the little dead end street which apparently is a hill. I was trying to decide between the three mile loop and the almost five mile loop. A-top the 'hill' I thought "uhh three mile loop-- duh." However, to get to both loops you go down a SUPER steep hill. By the bottom I was like "oh... I'm okay, I can do the almost-five." Wrong sauce. The hills are ridiculous. Regardless of the route, there are hills everywhere and they are so steep and so long. I am not one to swear like a sailor but I find myself cursing each hill the ENTIRE time it takes me to shuffle up it and even for a while after. So here I go on this just about five mile loop-- once atop the first hill I seriously considered turning back. Then I realized that I'd hate myself if I did, so I pushed on. How dramatic am I-- it's not like I was a pioneer on the Oregon Trail that just lost an oxen to the harsh weather conditions while I wasted away from Dysentery.. but it kinda felt like it... I turned to a gravel road which is my favorite part of that run because it's at a super slight downhill for most of it.. So there I am trotting along like an escapee from fat camp, rocking out to some angsty Kelly Clarkson... and all of the sudden out of the corner of my eye I see a LARGE dog LUNGING AT ME. Only after I saw it did I hear it barking viciously. Funny, I thought. This dog has no leash... this dog has no owner apologizing frantically for the its ferocious antics... NOT FUNNY. Panicked, I pushed its nose away and breathlessly said "Hi Puppy..." and booked it down the road. You're lame, self-- you couldn't out run this dog to save your life. Surrender now. Fortunately I gave that little self depreciating voice the mental middle finger and kept going until I couldn't hear Kujo barking anymore. So I escaped without rabies, but it scared the living day lights out of me! The rest of the run was terrible, as the adrenaline quickly stopped flowing and I still had a sickly huge hill to climb. I would be lying if I denied a walk break or two.
When I woke up before dawn this morning to get back to Seattle before my call shift (I caved on calling in.. such a wuss), I could barely get out of bed-- not due to exhaustion and the wee hour of the morning-- due to ridiculously sore legs. It's sad really. There was a time that I'd rejoice in the lactic acid and think "awesome that means I'm working hard," but now I think "EFF that hurts!" I have no intention of doing that loop again in the near future to get better at it.. I have little intention of running outside really. So it seems all for naught. HOW DO I GET OUTTA THIS FUNK!? Seriously, it seems way more mental than anything and you'd think that would be the easiest to fix because it's your mind, you have complete control-- but let me tell you it is far from easy. Don't get me wrong, my lack of cardiovascular endurance and muscle strength is no help either.. but seriouslyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy. I'm soo irritated.
Saturday, May 8, 2010
Holy Day Shift
Yowzer. I knew it was coming... but my awareness did not soften the blow of day shift. Jeepers creepers it is literally twelve PLUS hours of GOGOGOGOGOGOGOGOGOGOGO.
My first DAY SHIFT (off orientation) on a weekday (not a lot happens on weekends.. it would have been more ideal to have a first DAY on a weekend, but nay-- I got a Wednesday), I got a four patient assignment. Excuse me? Did I read that right-- YES. FOUR patients. FOUR BUSY BUSY BUSY patients. Less than ideal. Thursday and Friday I got 3 kids-- far more appropriate but was still running around like a crazy person and clocked some significant overtime. Whoops. If the overtime was my fault, I'd feel bad-- but it wasn't... so I don't.
BUT I WILL CONTINUE TO GENUINELY WELCOME THE CHAOS because it means I am on days and that means my sleep schedule will be so much more regular. Praise the LORD. I make sure to NEVER complain about how busy it is on days and try (but sometimes (read: frequently) fail) to always appear cheery.
AND-- I found pharmacy allll by myself-- the secret agent way, too, where oyu have to have a staff ID badge to get through several double doors.... Things are looking up.
My first DAY SHIFT (off orientation) on a weekday (not a lot happens on weekends.. it would have been more ideal to have a first DAY on a weekend, but nay-- I got a Wednesday), I got a four patient assignment. Excuse me? Did I read that right-- YES. FOUR patients. FOUR BUSY BUSY BUSY patients. Less than ideal. Thursday and Friday I got 3 kids-- far more appropriate but was still running around like a crazy person and clocked some significant overtime. Whoops. If the overtime was my fault, I'd feel bad-- but it wasn't... so I don't.
BUT I WILL CONTINUE TO GENUINELY WELCOME THE CHAOS because it means I am on days and that means my sleep schedule will be so much more regular. Praise the LORD. I make sure to NEVER complain about how busy it is on days and try (but sometimes (read: frequently) fail) to always appear cheery.
AND-- I found pharmacy allll by myself-- the secret agent way, too, where oyu have to have a staff ID badge to get through several double doors.... Things are looking up.
Sunday, May 2, 2010
Practice
Ooooh my goodness, last night work was ridiculously busy! Supposedly, it's a bad idea to write specifically about work events on blogs, facebook, etc. because if anything legal ever goes down such postings can and will be used against you... (I guess someone's facebook status was used once... I don't know, it's part of my paranoia) --BUT-- believe it or not I embraced the PURE chaos with an almost 100% genuine smile as it was good practice for my upcoming day shift debut. Mayhem and obstacles and craziness all await me Wednesday morning at 7:00am. It's about darn time.
--AND-- I got to x-ray without having to ask someone to remind me how to get there. This, my friends is huge. My place of employment is quite the maze-- especially for the clown that fainted during the orientation tour. PAH. Next up, pharmacy.
--AND-- I got to x-ray without having to ask someone to remind me how to get there. This, my friends is huge. My place of employment is quite the maze-- especially for the clown that fainted during the orientation tour. PAH. Next up, pharmacy.
Thursday, April 29, 2010
*From PostsecretIt is things like this that make me hate running on the treadmill at the gym. Nay-- makes me hate being out of shape and running on the treadmill at the gym. I definitely had this mindset at one point. Karma is a bear.
Tuesday, April 27, 2010
the bowels of hell
The bowels of hell continue to rumble with fury beneath me. I sometimes day dream about clipping the wires to their stereo system... throwing a rock through their window... taping a copy of the noise rule (in all tenants' leases) to their door... Despite all my griping, I realize how fortunate I am that this is one of the bigger things troubling me.
Sunday, April 25, 2010
Well....
Not even 24 hours after writing that I am probably bowing out of any races this season, I start thinking "Well...." UGH.
When I was in Chicago last spring/summer, I trained with a coworker most of the time. She's now a hot shot member of a triathlon gym and preparing for TWO half ironmans this summer. She's already done an 8k and a half marathon and apparently this weekend her training added up to two miles short of a half ironman. And I'm on the elliptical. I feel like such a loooser. So then I start looking for ANYTHING to pull me out of this deep rut I'm stuck in. I come across race calendars and training tips, all things that would occupy me for hours on end last year, but now they give me a sick feeling in the pit of my stomach and fuel my pity party.
Then I came across this. Last year I would have declined the notion of a women's training group because a lot of women are pansies (a lot are hardcore GI Janes, but a lot more are pansies). But now I'm kind of like, I have to do whatever I can to get back at it. And truth be told, I'd fit right in with pansies. So I sent an inquiring email. There is a bike training they're doing May 11th that I (think?) I would like to go to. Even considering it about it makes me nervous and kind of nauseous actually. I haven't ridden ole Speedy since... August or September... the tires are FLAT and I don't have a tire pump. I can only imagine the fool I'll make of myself re-learning the clipping pedals and donning bike shorts. Ugh maybe it's a bad idea. But I can't deny the whispering voice that says maybe it's exactly what I need.
... so we'll see, I guess. =/
(and in the short time it took to scribe this, I already got a response to the email... will someone come with me?!?!)
When I was in Chicago last spring/summer, I trained with a coworker most of the time. She's now a hot shot member of a triathlon gym and preparing for TWO half ironmans this summer. She's already done an 8k and a half marathon and apparently this weekend her training added up to two miles short of a half ironman. And I'm on the elliptical. I feel like such a loooser. So then I start looking for ANYTHING to pull me out of this deep rut I'm stuck in. I come across race calendars and training tips, all things that would occupy me for hours on end last year, but now they give me a sick feeling in the pit of my stomach and fuel my pity party.
Then I came across this. Last year I would have declined the notion of a women's training group because a lot of women are pansies (a lot are hardcore GI Janes, but a lot more are pansies). But now I'm kind of like, I have to do whatever I can to get back at it. And truth be told, I'd fit right in with pansies. So I sent an inquiring email. There is a bike training they're doing May 11th that I (think?) I would like to go to. Even considering it about it makes me nervous and kind of nauseous actually. I haven't ridden ole Speedy since... August or September... the tires are FLAT and I don't have a tire pump. I can only imagine the fool I'll make of myself re-learning the clipping pedals and donning bike shorts. Ugh maybe it's a bad idea. But I can't deny the whispering voice that says maybe it's exactly what I need.
... so we'll see, I guess. =/
(and in the short time it took to scribe this, I already got a response to the email... will someone come with me?!?!)
Sugar Fairy & Crazy Eyes Chaos with a Fish Stench Issue
-For the past few weeks I have made a very conscious and diligent effort to avoid refined sugar due to extreme fear that I have or will soon have the 'betes (Diabetes). This is SO hard for me-- I am addicted to the sweet stuff. While I've failed more than I care to admit, I have done better than I thought I would, and I notice that I feel better too. Less mood swings and stuff. I'm still tired all the time, but that's to be expected when my sleep schedule is so effed up. I have less cravings than I used to, but they're not gone.. and MAN are they powerful! Another reason that I should never be preggers-- I can't handle cravings! I have also discovered avocados and their deliciousness. They make everything better-- boca burgers, salad, etc. I wish there was a way to buy a lot of them without them ALL getting ripe at the same time.
-Confession: I have become a regular (gulp) ... elliptical-er. As I've said for the past several months, running is not working out super awesomely. I figured I needed some cardio and if that meant stepping on the fairy machine, so be it. I'm hoping to build some feeble base of fitness that will grant me success in actual running. We'll see.
-A coworker and I went to a spinning class downtown last week. The instructor was a maniac. When he walked in with veins bulging from his huge muscles, tan leathery skin, and sipping on his MONSTER, I knew we were in trouble. It was the first spinning class my friend ever went to and I think she'll never go back. He started off with a pace of like 250rpms, flashed us some crazy eyes(seriously they were like glowing) and said in an almost eerily calm tone 'This is our warmup." Throughout the class he kept screaming things like "COME ON!" and "ARE YOU WITH ME?!" to which I mentally responded NO! I haven't been with you for a VERY long time! If you've ever seen the movie Heavyweights this instructor resembled Ben Stiller's character to a tee. It was not good.
-I start days on May 5th. I'm so excited. I'm also nervous. Day shift is often mass chaos. But I refuse to whine about that-- it seems a small sacrifice for normalcy in my non-work life. Yes please.
-I am fish sitting again. Whenever I put my face next to the fish bowl to get good look at Fish (I forgot what his name is.. so I call him Fish), he starts FLIPPING OUT and darting back and forth across the bowl. I'm worried I'll give him a little fishy heart attack. Sometimes, though he looks dead, so to see if he is or not I get down and look at him and he jumps back to life. You know its bad when you scare the dickens out of a freaking fish.
-My neighbors are outta control. I spend much of my spare time looking for a new apartment on Craigslist. One that is in a duplex or that is a house of its own. However, I haven't found anything that is in my budget that isn't in the middle of nowhere. Fail. I came home from work this morning and the second I opened the door to the stairwell I was slapped in the face by the stench of cannabis. Man that stuff is rank.
-At this point I don't think I'm going to do any triathlons this summer. I am in no shape to do any and feel good about them. I might change my mind, but I am more and more at peace with the idea of figuring out whatever my issue is with getting back in shape and then embracing races again. If I did any in this state of mind, I would be so disappointed in myself and I'd have a terrible time-- why spend money on that?
-Confession: I have become a regular (gulp) ... elliptical-er. As I've said for the past several months, running is not working out super awesomely. I figured I needed some cardio and if that meant stepping on the fairy machine, so be it. I'm hoping to build some feeble base of fitness that will grant me success in actual running. We'll see.
-A coworker and I went to a spinning class downtown last week. The instructor was a maniac. When he walked in with veins bulging from his huge muscles, tan leathery skin, and sipping on his MONSTER, I knew we were in trouble. It was the first spinning class my friend ever went to and I think she'll never go back. He started off with a pace of like 250rpms, flashed us some crazy eyes(seriously they were like glowing) and said in an almost eerily calm tone 'This is our warmup." Throughout the class he kept screaming things like "COME ON!" and "ARE YOU WITH ME?!" to which I mentally responded NO! I haven't been with you for a VERY long time! If you've ever seen the movie Heavyweights this instructor resembled Ben Stiller's character to a tee. It was not good.
-I start days on May 5th. I'm so excited. I'm also nervous. Day shift is often mass chaos. But I refuse to whine about that-- it seems a small sacrifice for normalcy in my non-work life. Yes please.
-I am fish sitting again. Whenever I put my face next to the fish bowl to get good look at Fish (I forgot what his name is.. so I call him Fish), he starts FLIPPING OUT and darting back and forth across the bowl. I'm worried I'll give him a little fishy heart attack. Sometimes, though he looks dead, so to see if he is or not I get down and look at him and he jumps back to life. You know its bad when you scare the dickens out of a freaking fish.
-My neighbors are outta control. I spend much of my spare time looking for a new apartment on Craigslist. One that is in a duplex or that is a house of its own. However, I haven't found anything that is in my budget that isn't in the middle of nowhere. Fail. I came home from work this morning and the second I opened the door to the stairwell I was slapped in the face by the stench of cannabis. Man that stuff is rank.
-At this point I don't think I'm going to do any triathlons this summer. I am in no shape to do any and feel good about them. I might change my mind, but I am more and more at peace with the idea of figuring out whatever my issue is with getting back in shape and then embracing races again. If I did any in this state of mind, I would be so disappointed in myself and I'd have a terrible time-- why spend money on that?
Saturday, April 24, 2010
Paranoid
Preface: I watch Law and Order (Criminal Intent and SVU) fairly regularly, and have even indulged in online-viewing marathons on occasion. This has led me to paranoia-- in almost every situation I can identify who will rape and/or murder me and why they won't be a prime suspect until 35-45 minutes into the episode that is my life.
When I moved in, there weren't screens on several of my windows. Since it was November and window opening wouldn't be an immediate need, I didn't do anything about it right away. As the weather has been getting warmer, I've wanted those screens more and more. One too many flies have welcomed themselves into my apartment through the gaping open window. So, I put in a maintenance request and within a week, I was woken from my daytime slumber by a handy man, here to install screens.
He was a fine upstanding citizen which made him all the more threatening in my mind. First thing I noticed was his thick accent, which he later would identify as Russian. He measured the windows that were screen-less then said "I will go to Home Depot to get supplies then come back to build the screens." Still half asleep, I nodded okay and shut the door behind him. Then my mind started going crazy. What if he goes to Home Depot to get rope, duct tape, and tarp? He's going to come back and murder me, wrap me up and dump me off. He had no motive, I have nothing of worth to steal in this place (sans my bike which he commented on as it is in one of the rooms w/o a screen), but I was convinced danger ensued. Naturally, I did nothing. I cleaned up a little actually, haha... When he came back I shrugged and let him in. As he built the screens in my living room I sat on the couch and pretended to watch Dr. Phil. It was a very tense silence. Then he started talking. He first asked how long I'd played soccer, motioning to a soccer ball that was on the floor. Oh geeze, he's trying to distract me. BE COOL. So we made small talk. I learned:
-He is from Russia and moved here in 1990. His mom made him move here, but he didn't want to. He went to a military school and liked it because he got along with the other boys there. His mom wanted him to be more social but he never really liked other people than his military school friends.
-He is a trained sharp shooter.
-He ha a license to carry a gun, but is applying for a license to carry a gun with a silencer. (I wanted to ask him why he needs a silencer but could imagine him replying with "So I can do this without anyone hearing" as he whips out his gun and shoots me).
-He played soccer (goalie) professionally in Russia and played some rec here but didn't like it. He wrestled professionally here and enjoyed that more because it was an individual sport. He didn't like losing because of his team, if he was going to succeed or fail he wanted it to be on his terms.
-He is currently looking for a career change into "protective services" which apparently means being a private investigator. According to him, fidelity checks are the most frequent job for PIs. He seemed to think it was silly for people to hire someone for such a reason stating "If you don't trust them, why are you with them?" Ironically, he later told me that he has a mistress even though he is engaged. I asked if his fiancee knew and he said yes, but that she was over it.
-He has two children (ages 5 and 10) that live with their mother (his ex wife) in Nevada.
-He's worked in protective services before and boasted of the power he potentially holds over people by checking their backgrounds and if they pay their taxes. He told me about his ex-wife's new boyfriend or husband and that he checked him out since new-guy has contact with his kids. He also threatened the new-guy with the information he found in case new-guy thought of hurting his kids.
-He told me he can pass a polygraph even if he's lying and that he's done it before.
-He knows how to tell if someone is lying by their body language and other clues he learned in his protective service days.
-Apparently the FBI wanted him to be a Russian translator but he declined because he didn't want to sit behind a desk. He told them he'd be an agent, but they didn't want him because he confessed to smoking pot once in his life.
-He asked where I was from and when I replied "Chicago" he told me he'd been there for 2 hours once. I assumed for a lay over, and he said "No... let's put it this way. I had to 'talk' to someone." He then told me he frequently had jobs where he'd go to a place and then he needed to leave very quickly to avoid aftermath. ?!?!?!?! Perhaps my paranoia is warranted.
-He told me that the Mob doesn't let kidnapping happen in Russia. It happened once where a kid was napped for ransom and the parents went to the Mob for help and the kid was returned to his parents alive, and they also received full garbage bags that had the kidnappers bodies diced into cubes.
-He rides motorcycles and never goes less than 115mph, even on the highways.
-He recommends laying flat on your back all alone in the middle of an open field for several hours to get a clear mind.
-He is a daredevil and at one time swam with sharks (apparently a non-Jaws kind) and put some shield on his arm then attached meat to it. That is his idea of fun.
-He rock climbs without ropes and once got stuck and had to call 911 from 500 feet up a rock face.
The whole time he was chatty chatty chatty. I will believe anything you tell me so long as it makes sense, so for a while I was totally on board with his stories, but the more he talked, the more I was like 'this guy is kinda off.' I started wishing I knew more about psychology so I could profile him and figure out if/how he was going to kill me in order to avoid it. A good two hours later, three screens were built and finally installed (btw not all the windows were the same size, but he assumed they were and just kind of 'made it work'-- dislike). He slowly cleaned up his mess. This is it, get ready to be attacked. He kept TALKING and said I should go sky diving or something to "live a little" (after talking about his risky lifestyle he was unimpressed when I had no stories offer). How clever, he wants me to live a little, but he's going to kill me! But, he didn't have a tarp. He didn't have a rope or any duct tape. He left pretty uneventfully. I'm perplexed... and still paranoid. He knows where I live. He knows I live along (me and my big mouth...). He is a repairman for the building so he's bound to be back. Needless to say I will continue to lock all four locks on my door. But I'm sure he'll find a way around them. He's probably reading this right now.
This is why I should watch less TV. My imagination goes amuck.
When I moved in, there weren't screens on several of my windows. Since it was November and window opening wouldn't be an immediate need, I didn't do anything about it right away. As the weather has been getting warmer, I've wanted those screens more and more. One too many flies have welcomed themselves into my apartment through the gaping open window. So, I put in a maintenance request and within a week, I was woken from my daytime slumber by a handy man, here to install screens.
He was a fine upstanding citizen which made him all the more threatening in my mind. First thing I noticed was his thick accent, which he later would identify as Russian. He measured the windows that were screen-less then said "I will go to Home Depot to get supplies then come back to build the screens." Still half asleep, I nodded okay and shut the door behind him. Then my mind started going crazy. What if he goes to Home Depot to get rope, duct tape, and tarp? He's going to come back and murder me, wrap me up and dump me off. He had no motive, I have nothing of worth to steal in this place (sans my bike which he commented on as it is in one of the rooms w/o a screen), but I was convinced danger ensued. Naturally, I did nothing. I cleaned up a little actually, haha... When he came back I shrugged and let him in. As he built the screens in my living room I sat on the couch and pretended to watch Dr. Phil. It was a very tense silence. Then he started talking. He first asked how long I'd played soccer, motioning to a soccer ball that was on the floor. Oh geeze, he's trying to distract me. BE COOL. So we made small talk. I learned:
-He is from Russia and moved here in 1990. His mom made him move here, but he didn't want to. He went to a military school and liked it because he got along with the other boys there. His mom wanted him to be more social but he never really liked other people than his military school friends.
-He is a trained sharp shooter.
-He ha a license to carry a gun, but is applying for a license to carry a gun with a silencer. (I wanted to ask him why he needs a silencer but could imagine him replying with "So I can do this without anyone hearing" as he whips out his gun and shoots me).
-He played soccer (goalie) professionally in Russia and played some rec here but didn't like it. He wrestled professionally here and enjoyed that more because it was an individual sport. He didn't like losing because of his team, if he was going to succeed or fail he wanted it to be on his terms.
-He is currently looking for a career change into "protective services" which apparently means being a private investigator. According to him, fidelity checks are the most frequent job for PIs. He seemed to think it was silly for people to hire someone for such a reason stating "If you don't trust them, why are you with them?" Ironically, he later told me that he has a mistress even though he is engaged. I asked if his fiancee knew and he said yes, but that she was over it.
-He has two children (ages 5 and 10) that live with their mother (his ex wife) in Nevada.
-He's worked in protective services before and boasted of the power he potentially holds over people by checking their backgrounds and if they pay their taxes. He told me about his ex-wife's new boyfriend or husband and that he checked him out since new-guy has contact with his kids. He also threatened the new-guy with the information he found in case new-guy thought of hurting his kids.
-He told me he can pass a polygraph even if he's lying and that he's done it before.
-He knows how to tell if someone is lying by their body language and other clues he learned in his protective service days.
-Apparently the FBI wanted him to be a Russian translator but he declined because he didn't want to sit behind a desk. He told them he'd be an agent, but they didn't want him because he confessed to smoking pot once in his life.
-He asked where I was from and when I replied "Chicago" he told me he'd been there for 2 hours once. I assumed for a lay over, and he said "No... let's put it this way. I had to 'talk' to someone." He then told me he frequently had jobs where he'd go to a place and then he needed to leave very quickly to avoid aftermath. ?!?!?!?! Perhaps my paranoia is warranted.
-He told me that the Mob doesn't let kidnapping happen in Russia. It happened once where a kid was napped for ransom and the parents went to the Mob for help and the kid was returned to his parents alive, and they also received full garbage bags that had the kidnappers bodies diced into cubes.
-He rides motorcycles and never goes less than 115mph, even on the highways.
-He recommends laying flat on your back all alone in the middle of an open field for several hours to get a clear mind.
-He is a daredevil and at one time swam with sharks (apparently a non-Jaws kind) and put some shield on his arm then attached meat to it. That is his idea of fun.
-He rock climbs without ropes and once got stuck and had to call 911 from 500 feet up a rock face.
The whole time he was chatty chatty chatty. I will believe anything you tell me so long as it makes sense, so for a while I was totally on board with his stories, but the more he talked, the more I was like 'this guy is kinda off.' I started wishing I knew more about psychology so I could profile him and figure out if/how he was going to kill me in order to avoid it. A good two hours later, three screens were built and finally installed (btw not all the windows were the same size, but he assumed they were and just kind of 'made it work'-- dislike). He slowly cleaned up his mess. This is it, get ready to be attacked. He kept TALKING and said I should go sky diving or something to "live a little" (after talking about his risky lifestyle he was unimpressed when I had no stories offer). How clever, he wants me to live a little, but he's going to kill me! But, he didn't have a tarp. He didn't have a rope or any duct tape. He left pretty uneventfully. I'm perplexed... and still paranoid. He knows where I live. He knows I live along (me and my big mouth...). He is a repairman for the building so he's bound to be back. Needless to say I will continue to lock all four locks on my door. But I'm sure he'll find a way around them. He's probably reading this right now.
This is why I should watch less TV. My imagination goes amuck.
Thursday, April 15, 2010
Oh snap.
I am in a very foul mood.
For the second week in a row now, I have come home from a soccer game wanting to hang up my cleats forever. What's the deal?!
I'm almost over last week, but today-- oh today. Livid.
First of all, my expectations were high-- it was still daylight (first time since playing here) and it was 60 degrees! Totally set it up for bliss. I arrived to the field that took seriously like 45 minutes to get to due to rush hour, and discovered it is grass. FML. I haven't played on grass consistently since high school and I hate playing on grass. I will admit it, I am a full blown turf snob. Not only does it make for a more consistent and predictable bounce on the ball, it is way less brutal on my achy breaky knees. Grass turns your legs into cement blocks. and your feet into sledge hammers. THEN we only had seven people show up-- again flash back to high school club soccer. It SUCKS playing even one man down, much less FOUR. Not even the sunny weather could negate the grass and lack of teammates. But we played on-- within five running steps my knee caught funny and didn't stop throbbing for the next 90 minutes. About 20 minutes into the first half I took a spill (as I ricocheted off some large man) right on to my right patella-- which has been and continues to be the bane of my existence. Every step on the uneven and SUPER LONG grass was brutal. My touch was so incredibly horrendous due to the rugged terrain and a dysfunctional right leg. When my touch is off, all bets are off. That's the one 'thing' I could ever claim in the game (that and 'vision'... ugh). I am not fast and no matter how hard I have tried to be, speed is something I do not excel in. So granted-- I was kind of bumbling around out there- AT RIGHT WING NO LESS. Probably the WORST position I could be put in. UGH. People slowly started to trickle in leisurely. I'm sorry, I was taught that if you're late, you are RUNNING to the field. When tardy turds saunter in giggling and chatting with spectators I want to throw up on them. At on particular point, I got called for a lame foul-- some thick foreign man was shielding the ball but his legs were SO FAR apart so I poked my foot between his legs to get the ball from behind him. Apparently that's not allowed. A tardy teammate who was SITTING on the sideline as she casually put her shoes on goes "From behind," in such a know-it-all-I'm-perfect-you-suck-how-do-you-sleep-at-night way. I raised my eyebrows at her and said, "Thank you, I'm aware." (...even though I didn't know that was a foul.. whatever). The rest of the game this girl talked to me like I was four years old and had never even HEARD of the sport of soccer in my life, much less played and coached for many many years. I can't even articulate the ludicrous nature of her tone. It pissed me off SO SO SO much. Once it was our goal kick and the goalie had to go quite a ways to retrieve the ball, so I took advantage of that time and was walking to where I needed to be. She yells to me "HEY! GET WIDE... ALL THE WAY TO THE SIDELINE ON GOAL KICKS." I looked at her again and said "I'm on my way there, thank you." I didn't try to hide my pissed off tone. She said the same thing to me again maybe ten minutes later-- I hadn't NOT gotten wide, I hadn't been out of position-- if there were reason for her to correct me, then I might not get as upset, but when it's totally unjustified, I don't tolerate it well. This time I yelled to (at?) her "I KNOW. I AM GOING. I AM CREATING THE SPACE. I AM DOING WHAT I NEED TO. THANK YOU." She shutup a little bit after that. A while later she asked if I wanted to play center and she could play wing, undoubtedly because she thought she could do better at wing, and fine, she probably could. So I accepted the offer enthusiastically. GUESS WHO DIDN'T GET WIDE. GUESS WHO DIDN'T COME BACK TO MARK UP. --EVEN WORSE-- GUESS WHO GOT YELLED AT BY THE SWEEPER TO MARK HER PLAYER WHEN SHE STAYED UP TOP?!?!?! ME. The next time she failed to come back, I yelled to her that she needed to get back-- that didn't go over well.. soo the next time I just picked up her person, trying to turn the other cheek. She kept looking back at me and then looking to the middle (where I should have been) and then she goes "Why don't you go back to the middle?" And I pointed to HER mark and said "Well, I'm marking this player right now, so I was going to stay on her, but if you want to come back and do your job, I'd love to go to the middle." I was so cheezed off by the entire game at this point. I drove through rush hour traffic to play on a shitty field to hurt myself to play in a game where I apparently was in capable of even knowing what to do to get yelled at and bossed around my a know it all snatch who wouldn't even follow her own instructions. AND WE LOST. No thank you I have no desire to be a part of that.
What happened to the game where we pass to feet and work the ball up the field as a team? What happened to the game where we work together and play GOOD soccer? What happened to the game where we relied on skill and intelligence and vision as opposed to speed and how hard you can push? It is so unfortunate that a potentially awesome 90 minutes can be spoiled by a few who really just suck in their attitude and demeanor towards others. It is more unfortunate that I haven't found a way to rise above those boogers in the punch bowl and enjoy the game regardless of their antics.
UGH. I swear she is the spawn of Troy.
For the record-- I do accept constructive criticism. If I am f-ing it up consistently, by all means, offer your two cents. I know that being on the field doesn't offer the time or environment to sugar coat anything so things often come across as curt or mean. I totally acknowledge that and can accept instructions in whatever tone when it is called for . But even though I was not the super star of the game today, I was not the peon that this tool-ette made me out to be and her conduct was completely un-called for. UGH the more I think about it the more I want to never play again-- with her or not. Doesn't seem worth it to get so riled up. I could seriously rant for a lot longer, but I'd say it's gone long enough.
(Final note: it's been quite some time since I've been THIS irritated-- it seriously reminds me of my senior season at NP-- and when I got to this point in frustration and fury I dealt with it by running (because Lord knows I didn't expend any physical energy warming that damned bench-- lets not go there). But right now it is all I can do to walk to the shower and stand in there long enough get clean. I am 24 years old but I might as well be 80. I even have the wrinkles for it. Wah).
For the second week in a row now, I have come home from a soccer game wanting to hang up my cleats forever. What's the deal?!
I'm almost over last week, but today-- oh today. Livid.
First of all, my expectations were high-- it was still daylight (first time since playing here) and it was 60 degrees! Totally set it up for bliss. I arrived to the field that took seriously like 45 minutes to get to due to rush hour, and discovered it is grass. FML. I haven't played on grass consistently since high school and I hate playing on grass. I will admit it, I am a full blown turf snob. Not only does it make for a more consistent and predictable bounce on the ball, it is way less brutal on my achy breaky knees. Grass turns your legs into cement blocks. and your feet into sledge hammers. THEN we only had seven people show up-- again flash back to high school club soccer. It SUCKS playing even one man down, much less FOUR. Not even the sunny weather could negate the grass and lack of teammates. But we played on-- within five running steps my knee caught funny and didn't stop throbbing for the next 90 minutes. About 20 minutes into the first half I took a spill (as I ricocheted off some large man) right on to my right patella-- which has been and continues to be the bane of my existence. Every step on the uneven and SUPER LONG grass was brutal. My touch was so incredibly horrendous due to the rugged terrain and a dysfunctional right leg. When my touch is off, all bets are off. That's the one 'thing' I could ever claim in the game (that and 'vision'... ugh). I am not fast and no matter how hard I have tried to be, speed is something I do not excel in. So granted-- I was kind of bumbling around out there- AT RIGHT WING NO LESS. Probably the WORST position I could be put in. UGH. People slowly started to trickle in leisurely. I'm sorry, I was taught that if you're late, you are RUNNING to the field. When tardy turds saunter in giggling and chatting with spectators I want to throw up on them. At on particular point, I got called for a lame foul-- some thick foreign man was shielding the ball but his legs were SO FAR apart so I poked my foot between his legs to get the ball from behind him. Apparently that's not allowed. A tardy teammate who was SITTING on the sideline as she casually put her shoes on goes "From behind," in such a know-it-all-I'm-perfect-you-suck-how-do-you-sleep-at-night way. I raised my eyebrows at her and said, "Thank you, I'm aware." (...even though I didn't know that was a foul.. whatever). The rest of the game this girl talked to me like I was four years old and had never even HEARD of the sport of soccer in my life, much less played and coached for many many years. I can't even articulate the ludicrous nature of her tone. It pissed me off SO SO SO much. Once it was our goal kick and the goalie had to go quite a ways to retrieve the ball, so I took advantage of that time and was walking to where I needed to be. She yells to me "HEY! GET WIDE... ALL THE WAY TO THE SIDELINE ON GOAL KICKS." I looked at her again and said "I'm on my way there, thank you." I didn't try to hide my pissed off tone. She said the same thing to me again maybe ten minutes later-- I hadn't NOT gotten wide, I hadn't been out of position-- if there were reason for her to correct me, then I might not get as upset, but when it's totally unjustified, I don't tolerate it well. This time I yelled to (at?) her "I KNOW. I AM GOING. I AM CREATING THE SPACE. I AM DOING WHAT I NEED TO. THANK YOU." She shutup a little bit after that. A while later she asked if I wanted to play center and she could play wing, undoubtedly because she thought she could do better at wing, and fine, she probably could. So I accepted the offer enthusiastically. GUESS WHO DIDN'T GET WIDE. GUESS WHO DIDN'T COME BACK TO MARK UP. --EVEN WORSE-- GUESS WHO GOT YELLED AT BY THE SWEEPER TO MARK HER PLAYER WHEN SHE STAYED UP TOP?!?!?! ME. The next time she failed to come back, I yelled to her that she needed to get back-- that didn't go over well.. soo the next time I just picked up her person, trying to turn the other cheek. She kept looking back at me and then looking to the middle (where I should have been) and then she goes "Why don't you go back to the middle?" And I pointed to HER mark and said "Well, I'm marking this player right now, so I was going to stay on her, but if you want to come back and do your job, I'd love to go to the middle." I was so cheezed off by the entire game at this point. I drove through rush hour traffic to play on a shitty field to hurt myself to play in a game where I apparently was in capable of even knowing what to do to get yelled at and bossed around my a know it all snatch who wouldn't even follow her own instructions. AND WE LOST. No thank you I have no desire to be a part of that.
What happened to the game where we pass to feet and work the ball up the field as a team? What happened to the game where we work together and play GOOD soccer? What happened to the game where we relied on skill and intelligence and vision as opposed to speed and how hard you can push? It is so unfortunate that a potentially awesome 90 minutes can be spoiled by a few who really just suck in their attitude and demeanor towards others. It is more unfortunate that I haven't found a way to rise above those boogers in the punch bowl and enjoy the game regardless of their antics.
UGH. I swear she is the spawn of Troy.
For the record-- I do accept constructive criticism. If I am f-ing it up consistently, by all means, offer your two cents. I know that being on the field doesn't offer the time or environment to sugar coat anything so things often come across as curt or mean. I totally acknowledge that and can accept instructions in whatever tone when it is called for . But even though I was not the super star of the game today, I was not the peon that this tool-ette made me out to be and her conduct was completely un-called for. UGH the more I think about it the more I want to never play again-- with her or not. Doesn't seem worth it to get so riled up. I could seriously rant for a lot longer, but I'd say it's gone long enough.
(Final note: it's been quite some time since I've been THIS irritated-- it seriously reminds me of my senior season at NP-- and when I got to this point in frustration and fury I dealt with it by running (because Lord knows I didn't expend any physical energy warming that damned bench-- lets not go there). But right now it is all I can do to walk to the shower and stand in there long enough get clean. I am 24 years old but I might as well be 80. I even have the wrinkles for it. Wah).
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