Shady with the Shades

I have never been a sunglass wearer. That is, until now. As I am obsessed with taking care of myself in my fourth decade of life, I figured it was a good time to pay attention to my eyes. In Vermont, I bought a pair of Very Expensive Oakley sunglasses. They look cool. They look athletic. I am a bad ass.

Too bad I keep forgetting to take them with me. I'll find myself standing at a corner, waiting to cross the street, thinking, "God, that sun is bright!" and then remembering that this was the reason I bought those dang sunglasses in the first place.

I remembered them today. I wore them to the apartment where I gave an English lesson, then I put them in my bag. I had forgotten to bring the hard case the sales guy gave me for free because I had spent So Much Money, but I still had the soft sleeve they had come with. I put them in my bag, had the lesson, and then didn't put them back on because I was only going to walk a few blocks and then go into the supermarket.

I used the self-checkout and saved some bags by throwing most of the stuff in my backpack. Unfortunately, I realized when I got outside, that stuff was mostly canned goods. Dumped on top of my new sunglasses, not in the hard case.

I dug around and prayed, and I was rewarded with my sunglasses intact. Put 'em on, was protected all the way home, and decided that maybe dress pants were not the best look for my sporty shades. Perhaps I'll have to get another pair.

Vermont

I'm Baaaaack!

I was in Vermont for four days with friends. You remember the famous Marco, who has had a few posts written about him on this blog? I went with his family. Had a great time. More on that later.

I got home Tuesday night,checked email (after four days, I had a lot), unpacked a little, plugged in the A/C that my landlord had thoughtfully put in for me, and went to bed early.

On Wednesday night I couldn't for the life of me connect to the internet. On Thursday morning when I went to call Verizon about my DSL, I discovered that my land line was dead. Goddammit. I used my cell phone and had to go through all kinds of changes to make an appointment for someone to come and check my line on the next day. Had to go to a friend's house to do some important emailng. I do not like not being online!

This was the third time my phone has had a problem within a year. It's never my fault, and they always come out and fix it right away. I had to go through the questions: "Did you check everything?" Yes, I checked everything. I hadn't, really, but it had happened twice before, I was not about to go buy a test phone again, have it not work, and then bring it back to the store. Let them come and look at it and fix it.

Finally got the appointment for today and had to be home between 9 and 2. Why is it that I can stay home all day on a Saturday and park myself in front of the TV, no problem, but when I'm required to stay home to wait for a service person, I'm so frustrated, like I have things to do?

Anyway, the Verizon truck pulled up at 1:15 and a woman who looked like a grandmother got out and said she just wanted to check the line from inside. She tried it from my phone, but then had to go directly to the jack. She bent down to look at the jack and said, "Oh, it's loose." Click. And that was it. I had a flash in fast motion, like in the movies, of me plugging in the A/C and loosening the phone plug in the jack.

Oh my god, I had never been so embarassed in my entire life, and told Grandma Verizon so. She was so sweet, she immediately told me she wasn't going to charge me for it. She stayed to make sure I got online, then left.

Note to self: check everything when they say to check everything. As my friend Hiro said, that's Troubleshooting 101. Got it. Glad to be back online.

1 Year

Today marked one year since my dad died. Here's a picture of us when I got my Master's. My dad was not the most present father, but I must say, he went to all three of my graduations. He was proud of my success in education.

I remember my dad's love of opera. He went to the opera almost every day during the opera season. A bartender gave him the nickname, "Johnny Opera". It stuck. I now have Johnny Opera tattooed on my arm, underneath my "Mom" heart.

Dad, and Mom, may you rest in peace. I hope right now you're yukking it up over there on the other side.

Weight Watcher Wonderings

My friend M is on Weight Watchers, where all the food you eat is on a point system, and you're allotted a certain number of points per day.

M is Jewish, and her partner T was raised Catholic. They had a bris, and they're having their son baptized next weekend. M told me that she told T ain't no way she was gonna say anything about Jesus or eat one of them wafers. We wondered, "How many points are in the body of Christ?"

Small town Charm, Beware!

I just walked into the house of a serial killer. Well, he could be a serial killer. I escaped.

It's hard to live in a nice and friendly neighborhood, because you find yourself doing nice and friendly things. You let your guard down.

Just now, coming home, I came upon a man who was trying to lift a TV across the street by himself. It looked really heavy, so I asked him if he needed help. He said he didn't want me to hurt myself, and I just said, "Well, two's better than one, it's no problem." We got it across, and as we were going up the stairs, it occurred to me that the serial killer Ted Bundy got his victims by feigning a fake broken arm. He'd lure girls into his waiting van, and then torture and murder them. This is the thought that came upon me, and I knew I had to get out of there, fast.

As soon as we got into the foyer, I put that TV down as fast as I could and said, "Well, that's it!" The guy said, "Can I offer you a drink or something?" Nope, no, I'm fine, gotta go...and I was outta there like a bolt of lightning.

Whew! I will live to see another day. Guard up.

Kitty Trouble

This is Noah. Cute, isn't he? But cute little Noah can unknowingly get you into trouble.

Rule #1: Never refer to a cat as a pussycat or pussy around kids, even if you think it's funny. That's what my friends L and J did, with their daughters S, age 6, and V, age 2. Next thing you know, S says, "There's pussy hairs all over the bed!" and even worse, possibly after playing on the bed, "There's pussy hairs in my mouth!" Do not utter these words at school, dear children, or mommy will answer the door to a lady with a big DSS badge on her jacket and take you away from your family. C-A-T spells CAT, not pussy!

Skeletons in my Closet

I did a little What Not to Wear / Mission: Organization on my closet today. I went through and tried everything on. I got rid of two bags of clothing. Here's what I learned:

I am not a size 0 anymore.

I am not a size 1.

I am not a size 2.

I am a size 4. I am a size 4. I am a size 4. I might be a size 4 1/2, but let's not go there right now.

I had a lot of pants I didn't even know I had.

What was I thinking with that little black beaded tanktop?

I have a lot of hangers that are unused.

I have 4 little black dresses.

There were several outfits I could have worn to Caterina's party that would have been better than the one I did wear, had I really looked in my closet.

It makes me very very sad, but it is finally time to throw away my most favorite jeans that I bought in 2000. The knees are both worn out, and that is why I have femoral patella syndrome today. Plus, I will never fit into them again. Never.

I know elastic waistbands are not the sexiest, but they make things still fit, unlike some other waistbands.

My friends are so sweet to give me their size 4 pants.

I should be grateful I am a size 4. Many people would kill to be a size 4.

It's all relative.

Small Town Charm?

One great thing about living in a small town is that you see people you know every day, and it really feels like a neighborhood. I'm constantly running into kids and parents from my preschool, those who attend now, or those who went ten years ago.

One not so great thing about living in a small town is that when you're at an arts festival you might run into guys you've gone on one or two awkward dates with. I managed to elude them yesterday, but I know I'll see them at Starbucks this summer. I'll just grin and bear it.

Happy Birthday, Prince!

Prince is 50 years old today. I changed the song a little.

Happy Birthday to you
It's a Catch-22
I'd so like to meet you
But I don't know what I'd do!

Maybe he'd show me, heh heh. Happy Birthday. Age ain't nothin' but a number.

Fresh Firefighters

I just got a second call from local firefighters, asking for money. Seems I had donated something back in December, when I used part of my annual bonus to give to various charities. It felt really good.

Of course, now those various charities are contacting me regularly, thinking that I am able to donate all the time, which I am not. I get a weekly letter from Planned Parenthood, and now, instead of feeling good, I am getting annoyed.

The organization that takes the cake, however, is these firefighters. The first time they called, I said, "I'm sorry, but I have no money right now, and I'm about to walk out the door." The caller replied, "That's not what I was calling for, and you enjoy that meal in front of you."

They just called again, and I listened to their schpiel this time. Actually, they were asking for money. I told the man that I had donated before because I had had money at that time, but I couldn't donate now, and that the next time I had money, I would donate again. The caller answered me by saying, "Okay, take care of yourself first, thank you." and he hung up.

You know what? Now they don't get any money from me, with that attitude! If telemarketers and local charities ask for money without any 'tude, they just might get it. For now, yes, I'll take care of myself and enjoy any meals that are in front of me. Thank YOU.

Sugar Fix

Number of days of Alex's Sugar-Free Summer:

2

What happened:

Okay, here's the confession. Wanna know why I wasn't going to have sugar in my house for the whole summer? Oprah. I was watching her show the other day; they had all these obese people who weighed 500 lbs. and had lost 300 lbs. with no surgery.

Oprah went on and on about how, if you're trying to lose that last 10 lbs., if they can do it, you can do it. I figured, "hey, I want to lose 10 lbs. I'm feeling a little thicker around the middle than I did 10 years ago...sugar's bad for you, how hard can it be?"

On day 2, today, I was a monster. 2 days of no tea. I had a headache, I was very cranky, parents were rubbing my back at work today, clucking their tongues.

Percentage of people who thought that me giving up sugar in my house was a bad idea:

100

Guess what? Premenstrual + no caffine and sugar for 2 days = crazy person!!!

After my therapist confirmed that you only live once, and I needed to have my tea back in my life, I went to Starbucks and grabbed 6 packets of Sugar in the Raw like I was some kind of junkie. Had my cup of tea in my house tonight...

AHHHHH...feels good to be back.

Sugar-free Summer

I've decided to not have sugar in my house for the entire summer. I want to see what happens. Will I lose weight? Will I have more energy? Will I lose my sugar addiction? I dumped out what I had in my sugar jar and sugar bowl and gave it to my neighbors.

I already stopped drinking tea (read: I stopped consuming two teaspoons of sugar) at work. It was pretty easy. At work there's tea that I don't like and half and half, which I don't like, so I don't want it. I drink water.

The biggest difference at home will be that I won't have my morning and evening cup of tea, which I quite like. It's comforting. It's also full of sugar. And caffeine. I'll drink water.

This is not to say that I'm giving up on sugar altogether. If I want a Starbucks, I'll get a Starbucks. Tea and muffin. I'll keep eating all the natural sugar found in fruit, cake, cookies, etc. It's just I won't have it in the house. If it's not in the house, I won't eat it. Like snacks. What I do for a treat if I don't have sweets in the house is eat a piece of whole wheat bread with olive oil-based spread or its equivalent. And now, water.

Wish me luck. I won't go thirsty, that's for sure.

Beware Birthday Speeches

Recently I've attended two adult birthday parties, a 40th and a 50th. Big celebrations, with lots of family and friends around, toasts, and speeches by family members, namely parents.

At the first party for my friend C, her dad started to give this speech about her birth. How, when she was born, she was the most beautiful baby,(awww) and she cried so loudly, (oh!) but then she turned out okay (aww) even though she cried so much (oh!), etc. Okay. Then Dad said, "And then her brother S was born. And when he came out, whoa! Was he funny looking! He had this big red mark, and his head was pointy. He looked like a mushroom!" All the guests had frozen smiles on their faces. We were scared to death. He went on and on, and somehow he finished, and we said Happy Birthday to C.

Later on, I went up to the brother and told him that he was a good-looking man. He laughed and said thank you. At the end of the night I went up to his wife and said the same thing. She looked at me blankly and suspiciously. Oh my god, she thought I was hitting on her husband right to her face! I said, "I'm referring to the speech." "Oh", she said, "I've heard that story so many times..." Oh my god, that wasn't some tipsy dad speech?? He's said that before? Poor guy.

I thought that was an isolated incident, but apparently this kind of thing happens. Yesterday I was at my friend T's 50th. His mother got up and told the story of Mrs. So-and-So, who had all those cats, and when T was a little boy, he and his friends were playing Cowboys and Indians, and they were practicing the lasso. They lassoed one of the cats and hung it on a tree. T thought that by pulling on the lasso, it would make the loop looser, so they kept pulling and pulling, and finally T went into the house to tell his mom, because the cat didn't look right.

At this point, I almost shouted out, "Happy Birthday, T!", but I didn't dare interrupt the story. The audience was waiting for a happy ending. Well, along came these Boy Scouts, just then, and...they rescued the cat! NO, that's not what T's mom said! She said that they thought T and his friends had a problem and they should be committed. The End, Happy Birthday, T.

And then T's father got up and said that when T was born, he (the dad) was in the bushes, throwing up. The End.

Oh man, ain't nothing like some birthday speeches to make one proud to be alive. Next time you're celebrating a big one, just hold your breath while the parents are talking, so you'll have a lot of air saved up to blow out the candles.

Morphed into a Rooster

Oh god. Oh god. Oh god. This cat's gonna be the death of me.

Shelby and I have a routine. Every morning, around 6:30, she either comes up her steps of the loft bed and softly taps me, or meows to wake me up. Sometimes she lets me sleep. Sometimes she stays downstairs and just meows annoyingly until I get up.

In any case, I get up, we go to the bathroom, and then I let her out into the hallway to see what's what. She's there for maybe 30 seconds, and I let her back in. She takes her pill, and I start my morning; check email, turn on the news, etc. She goes into the bathroom and goes to sleep. This is what we do.

Shelby's not too intuitive on what's a weekend day and what's a weekday. Usually, I don't mind, because I get up at the same time every day. Today, however, she had a bee in her bonnet and was meowing to beat the band (I have suddenly transformed into the writing of 1950, apparently). She meowed, she pawed me, she wouldn't let up. I looked at the clock. 5:00 AM. On Sunday. This was not okay.

We fought back and forth. She went and coughed up a hairball. She came back. I thought maybe there was a fire. She's not a rooster, she's Lassie. She'll save my life. "What is it, girl?" I finally went down the ladder at 6:00. What was the emergency? She wanted to see what was what in the hallway. For 10 seconds. She wanted me to stay in the kitchen with her while she ate her breakfast and didn't take her pill. She is now resting comfortably on the floor, staring at me. "What?" she says.

I could kill her, but she is so freaking cute. I'm gonna try to go back to bed. Wish me luck.