There are so many decisions to be made while on vacation. Should I go swimming first or take a nap first? Thai restaurant or family seafood restaurant? Which magazine should I read first, Real Simple or Domino?
Our last two vacations were cruises where you could fill your entire day with activities. They were fun but shore excursions were always stressful. The food was expensive because we landed in tourist hotbeds - the excursions were also expensive. It was stressful trying to find a cab that wouldn't charge more than the guide books told us was a reasonable charge. Walking the streets having vendors try to sell you all sorts of trinkets and junk was stressful.
Now, I window shop, I walk into the cute shops and browse. No pressure! I love it. I have my eye on a super cute purse in one shop. If I still am thinking about it by the end of our time here I just may go buy it.
In one shop I found the sunglasses of all sunglasses. Trendy but not a pair that would make my children laugh in 10 years when they saw a picture of me in them (sorry, Mom - those huge 80's glasses are just too funny). But alas, they were slightly crooked. I was tempted to buy them anyway but that would have been silly.
Ryan is doing some work remotely each day to pad his vacation time for his Alaska fishing trip next week so we've been coming to the library where there is free wireless internet. I am computer #3 which has a 30 minute time limit - the downstairs computers have a 60 minute limit.
My brothers, their wives & kids and my mom are joining us for 2 nights beginning tomorrow. I haven't seen my little brother since Thanksgiving so I'm really excited to see him and his wife. My little bro wanted to go crabbing but after talking to the locals and my mom who grew up on the coast we found out that crabbing season is effectively over and that what ever he would catch would be small and not have a lot of meat. Ryan spotted a fishing boat off some docks that sell fresh crab for $7 a pound (about $14 a crab) - compared to $22 to buy one at a restaurant - or for crab already cracked it's $37 a pound! Mom's going to bring the outdoor gas grill, pot, salt and nut crackers so we can buy it and cook it ourselves. The place we are staying does not permit crab to be cooked inside the unit or to even be consumed inside. I don't blame them - if' the carcass is not discarded properly you end up with a very stinky mess.
Can you tell I'm hungry for seafood? Uh, oh. I only have 5 minutes left and I need to google how much crab a pregnant woman can eat.
Later!
Wednesday, August 01, 2007
Saturday, July 28, 2007
Two Free Entrees
I received a letter yesterday that I opened just before we took off on vacation. It was from the taco joint that served me a side of fingernail in my beverage. They took the appropriate tone of being mortified that such a thing occurred in their fine establishment and let me know that the management and crew at that store have been contacted. They included two measly vouchers for free food. Fine by me. It was gross what happened but I'm not going to crusade against them since I've been eating there for years and it is always clean and the employees are very nice. I view it as an isolated incident. The nail could have come mixed in with the lemon - someone could have cut their nail while cutting up the lemon.
The drive down to Keizer was long. Ryan had so much work to get done before leaving that he didn't get home until almost 1:00, then he had to eat lunch, pack and load the car. We hit the Friday rush hour traffic that starts super early in the summer. We got about 5 miles south of the city when everything came to a screeching halt, even the HOV lane was inching along. It stayed slow all the way to Olympia. It took an extra hour to get from our house to Olympia. An hour! It just confirmed for us why we live in the city. Live in city = easy commute. Sure your house is a little (a lot) smaller, you may or may not have a garage, your lot size is small (5,000 ft sq. is a 'decent' size' and many homes are built on 2,500 ft sq lots), the house is older and has knob and tube wiring, old plumbing and maybe asbestos siding and your property taxes are higher BUT you can get to work in under 20 minutes. It's all about minimizing time spent in the car. When I was selling real estate I would preview houses before I showed them to clients to narrow down what I had to show them and unfortunately I took clients who wanted to live in the sticks (Auburn, Renton, Woodinville). I got stuck in traffic so many times while previewing properties I couldn't fathom that people would be willing to put up with spending so much of their precious time in a car going nowhere because they wanted a house that was all new and shiny.
Now for a vacation update.
Ryan's family reunion was today. It's always fun to see his family, they are all so nice and personable. We got to spend a lot of time with Erika, the only grandchild in Ryan's immediate family - my belly was giving her a run for her money though. Her parents are pretty happy that at the next reunion our little guy will deflect some of the attention from her since she is the only toddler in the family right now. Ryan was really enjoying spending time with Erika as he wants to forge a relationship with her. It's kind of hard since we only see her once a year - we will need to fly out to see her more often so our boy will know his cousin. Erika spent two nights at our house and she said Ryan's name once, my name once or twice and Kea's name non-stop. She even says "Kea dog" in her sleep. Kea should be flattered since she also talks about the Wiggles in her sleep.
Tomorrow morning we are going to meet for breakfast in the hotel then head to a storage locker that all of his grandmother's belongings are in. The family had a chance yesterday to take what they wanted and everything that didn't go is going to a local charity. We took a china hutch (goodbye horrible Ikea buffet!) and a dresser that I will paint and use for the baby's room (or not paint and still use in the baby's room). Once we are done at the storage locker we are going to load up Kea with my mother-in-law and send her back to Belfair and her acreage where she can run and run and run some more. When we pick her up after she's been there for a few days she is the most mellow little lab. Her wiggle power is greatly depleted after Gordy has a week of throwing the ball with her and long walks with Mary Jo. When Gordy's granddaughters are out MacKenzie and the dog both get worn out. I'm surprised MacKenzie hasn't worn out her right arm with all the tennis balls she throws for the dog.
Maybe I'll give another update later on if we have wireless Internet where we are staying. Right now I think I need to sneak down to the dining room to grab something to eat before we all meet at 8 since I'm starving! The kid is burning up food faster and faster these days.
The drive down to Keizer was long. Ryan had so much work to get done before leaving that he didn't get home until almost 1:00, then he had to eat lunch, pack and load the car. We hit the Friday rush hour traffic that starts super early in the summer. We got about 5 miles south of the city when everything came to a screeching halt, even the HOV lane was inching along. It stayed slow all the way to Olympia. It took an extra hour to get from our house to Olympia. An hour! It just confirmed for us why we live in the city. Live in city = easy commute. Sure your house is a little (a lot) smaller, you may or may not have a garage, your lot size is small (5,000 ft sq. is a 'decent' size' and many homes are built on 2,500 ft sq lots), the house is older and has knob and tube wiring, old plumbing and maybe asbestos siding and your property taxes are higher BUT you can get to work in under 20 minutes. It's all about minimizing time spent in the car. When I was selling real estate I would preview houses before I showed them to clients to narrow down what I had to show them and unfortunately I took clients who wanted to live in the sticks (Auburn, Renton, Woodinville). I got stuck in traffic so many times while previewing properties I couldn't fathom that people would be willing to put up with spending so much of their precious time in a car going nowhere because they wanted a house that was all new and shiny.
Now for a vacation update.
Ryan's family reunion was today. It's always fun to see his family, they are all so nice and personable. We got to spend a lot of time with Erika, the only grandchild in Ryan's immediate family - my belly was giving her a run for her money though. Her parents are pretty happy that at the next reunion our little guy will deflect some of the attention from her since she is the only toddler in the family right now. Ryan was really enjoying spending time with Erika as he wants to forge a relationship with her. It's kind of hard since we only see her once a year - we will need to fly out to see her more often so our boy will know his cousin. Erika spent two nights at our house and she said Ryan's name once, my name once or twice and Kea's name non-stop. She even says "Kea dog" in her sleep. Kea should be flattered since she also talks about the Wiggles in her sleep.
Tomorrow morning we are going to meet for breakfast in the hotel then head to a storage locker that all of his grandmother's belongings are in. The family had a chance yesterday to take what they wanted and everything that didn't go is going to a local charity. We took a china hutch (goodbye horrible Ikea buffet!) and a dresser that I will paint and use for the baby's room (or not paint and still use in the baby's room). Once we are done at the storage locker we are going to load up Kea with my mother-in-law and send her back to Belfair and her acreage where she can run and run and run some more. When we pick her up after she's been there for a few days she is the most mellow little lab. Her wiggle power is greatly depleted after Gordy has a week of throwing the ball with her and long walks with Mary Jo. When Gordy's granddaughters are out MacKenzie and the dog both get worn out. I'm surprised MacKenzie hasn't worn out her right arm with all the tennis balls she throws for the dog.
Maybe I'll give another update later on if we have wireless Internet where we are staying. Right now I think I need to sneak down to the dining room to grab something to eat before we all meet at 8 since I'm starving! The kid is burning up food faster and faster these days.
Friday, July 27, 2007
Blame it on Baby Brain
I hear a lot of talk about pregnant women being forgetful. It's a great excuse for those of us who are forgetful in our non-gestational state. Ryan laughed when someone said I was so spacey because of the baby. He knows better.
So, I forgot to call Swell tonight. Sorry. After frantically tidying my work space and finishing up a few odds and ends I had to dash home and eat my oh-so delicious hummus platter that I had the foresight to order from Blue Willow catering at lunch time because I knew I would be too rushed after work to make anything healthy and fast food would be way too tempting and while scarfing down my hummus I had to finish reading my chapters in Organic God and wait for a woman from work to come and pick up my coffee table that was going to a garage sale to benefit a woman with cancer and who has no health insurance and I had to tidy up the house just a little to make it presentable to my girlfriends who know better than to expect a super neat house - but I can try anyway. All within a half an hour.
The coffee table was picked up, I ate half of my hummus and got 1/4 of the way through the last chapter of what I was to have read and I forgot to de-fur the house. Heather is allergic to cats and I normally sweep and take a lint brush to the couch and stuffed chair followed by a wipe down with a damp cloth. Poor Heather had a few sneezing episodes.
I gave the Taco joint one day to respond to my complaint about the fingernail in my drink. They failed. Tomorrow I will go in with cup in hand that has the fingernail taped to it to restaurant and let them know of the prize I found in my drink. I think having a pregnant woman at the counter talking about a fingernail in her drink cup should turn a few heads. I gave them a day to contact me which isn't that much time but when it's something as gross as this they should be a little bit more responsive.
Tomorrow promises to be another full day. Les Schwab at 8 for new brakes. I will have to hang out in Georgetown for an hour and a half while they work on the car unless Meg returns my call because she was going to meet me down there so we could go have coffee. It would be nice to see her and it sure beats hanging out in the Les Schwab waiting area and at the McDonald's across the parking lot. (This neighborhood is not such a fun place to be - very industrial with a lot of no-tell motels and fast food joints).
After I visit Mr. Schwab I get to go to a place and have the car's oil changed in a Jiffy. Then off to replace my cheap walking shoes that I left at Ryan's boss' house on Saturday at the company picnic in Port Orchard. (We went from there straight to a wedding on Fox Island). At least the shoes were cheap. And before I cross the bridge to go back to Beacon Hill - I have a little stop to make where I pick a bone about a fingernail.
After the bone picking I have to pack my bags for vacation, set the cats up with entirely too much food because Gwen is part pig and can't stop eating. She gets so fat when we are gone for more than a few days.
Ah! So much to do. And poor Ryan has even more to do. He's going into work early tomorrow so he can write some memos that have to go out before he can responsibly leave. He's bringing a work laptop with us so he can do some work while we are hanging out at the beach. That's actually not a bad idea because I plan on reading magazines, baby books, doing puzzles and doing a lot of sleeping. Oh, glorious sleep! I should head off to get some right now.
But first an update on Red Van Man turned Red Station Wagon Man.
He's gone. He hasn't been here in a couple of weeks.
Tonight Ryan saw a cop car across the street. We couldn't see who the cops were talking to but we think it was whoever was in the van on the corner almost out of our sight. We think our neighbors called the cops this time. See, the neighborhood isn't all that bad. Why tonight we had live Polka music to entertain us in our bible study. Nothing breaks the silence quite like a tuba solo.
So, I forgot to call Swell tonight. Sorry. After frantically tidying my work space and finishing up a few odds and ends I had to dash home and eat my oh-so delicious hummus platter that I had the foresight to order from Blue Willow catering at lunch time because I knew I would be too rushed after work to make anything healthy and fast food would be way too tempting and while scarfing down my hummus I had to finish reading my chapters in Organic God and wait for a woman from work to come and pick up my coffee table that was going to a garage sale to benefit a woman with cancer and who has no health insurance and I had to tidy up the house just a little to make it presentable to my girlfriends who know better than to expect a super neat house - but I can try anyway. All within a half an hour.
The coffee table was picked up, I ate half of my hummus and got 1/4 of the way through the last chapter of what I was to have read and I forgot to de-fur the house. Heather is allergic to cats and I normally sweep and take a lint brush to the couch and stuffed chair followed by a wipe down with a damp cloth. Poor Heather had a few sneezing episodes.
I gave the Taco joint one day to respond to my complaint about the fingernail in my drink. They failed. Tomorrow I will go in with cup in hand that has the fingernail taped to it to restaurant and let them know of the prize I found in my drink. I think having a pregnant woman at the counter talking about a fingernail in her drink cup should turn a few heads. I gave them a day to contact me which isn't that much time but when it's something as gross as this they should be a little bit more responsive.
Tomorrow promises to be another full day. Les Schwab at 8 for new brakes. I will have to hang out in Georgetown for an hour and a half while they work on the car unless Meg returns my call because she was going to meet me down there so we could go have coffee. It would be nice to see her and it sure beats hanging out in the Les Schwab waiting area and at the McDonald's across the parking lot. (This neighborhood is not such a fun place to be - very industrial with a lot of no-tell motels and fast food joints).
After I visit Mr. Schwab I get to go to a place and have the car's oil changed in a Jiffy. Then off to replace my cheap walking shoes that I left at Ryan's boss' house on Saturday at the company picnic in Port Orchard. (We went from there straight to a wedding on Fox Island). At least the shoes were cheap. And before I cross the bridge to go back to Beacon Hill - I have a little stop to make where I pick a bone about a fingernail.
After the bone picking I have to pack my bags for vacation, set the cats up with entirely too much food because Gwen is part pig and can't stop eating. She gets so fat when we are gone for more than a few days.
Ah! So much to do. And poor Ryan has even more to do. He's going into work early tomorrow so he can write some memos that have to go out before he can responsibly leave. He's bringing a work laptop with us so he can do some work while we are hanging out at the beach. That's actually not a bad idea because I plan on reading magazines, baby books, doing puzzles and doing a lot of sleeping. Oh, glorious sleep! I should head off to get some right now.
But first an update on Red Van Man turned Red Station Wagon Man.
He's gone. He hasn't been here in a couple of weeks.
Tonight Ryan saw a cop car across the street. We couldn't see who the cops were talking to but we think it was whoever was in the van on the corner almost out of our sight. We think our neighbors called the cops this time. See, the neighborhood isn't all that bad. Why tonight we had live Polka music to entertain us in our bible study. Nothing breaks the silence quite like a tuba solo.
Wednesday, July 25, 2007
Eew!
Eew as in yelch, yuck, gross, gag.
What's so gross you ask?
It was lunch time. Yep. The grossness involves food. The food establishment shall remain nameless but I wanted a TACO at lunch TIME. I ate my chicken soft taco (no sour cream if my midwife is reading this - just salsa) and mexifries (hopefully my midwife can't read small print) then I took my ice tea with an extra lemon wedge (their wedges are tiny, stingy passer outers of lemon they are) and went back to the office where I continued to nurse on my slightly bitter beverage. I sucked up small bits of ice and crunched them as I'm not allowed to chew on ice when Ryan's around and I sucked lemon seeds and swallowed them no problem.
Re-cap: Taco was delicious even though it had an accident on my dress. Mexifries were so-so and (spoiler alert) thus far the ice tea was well, ice tea. What's the problem?
When I reached the last bit of ice tea I sucked up a seed, some ice and something? Uh, I don't know. It wasn't hard, it wasn't crunchy and it wasn't slippery like a lemon seed so I promptly spit it out in my hand. It was part of a fingernail!!!
Insert shocking dooh-dooh-dooh music here.
What do you do with that? I showed it to an agent in the office to ask what they thought it was. She identified it as a fingernail with clean edges as if it were clipped. So I went on-line and sent in a complaint and if they don't respond by tomorrow I'm going take the fingernail I taped to the cup into the restaurant and ... I don't know.
What's so gross you ask?
It was lunch time. Yep. The grossness involves food. The food establishment shall remain nameless but I wanted a TACO at lunch TIME. I ate my chicken soft taco (no sour cream if my midwife is reading this - just salsa) and mexifries (hopefully my midwife can't read small print) then I took my ice tea with an extra lemon wedge (their wedges are tiny, stingy passer outers of lemon they are) and went back to the office where I continued to nurse on my slightly bitter beverage. I sucked up small bits of ice and crunched them as I'm not allowed to chew on ice when Ryan's around and I sucked lemon seeds and swallowed them no problem.
Re-cap: Taco was delicious even though it had an accident on my dress. Mexifries were so-so and (spoiler alert) thus far the ice tea was well, ice tea. What's the problem?
When I reached the last bit of ice tea I sucked up a seed, some ice and something? Uh, I don't know. It wasn't hard, it wasn't crunchy and it wasn't slippery like a lemon seed so I promptly spit it out in my hand. It was part of a fingernail!!!
Insert shocking dooh-dooh-dooh music here.
What do you do with that? I showed it to an agent in the office to ask what they thought it was. She identified it as a fingernail with clean edges as if it were clipped. So I went on-line and sent in a complaint and if they don't respond by tomorrow I'm going take the fingernail I taped to the cup into the restaurant and ... I don't know.
Monday, July 16, 2007
It's finally here!
After 2 months of sheer exhaustion, 6 months of a pea sized bladder, 2 months of swollen feet and ankles turned tree trunks and 2 months of aches the thing I've been looking forward to has arrived.
It's long awaited arrival came unannounced, no fan fare, no trumpets trumpeting but it's arrival was beautiful. Nesting arrived. It would have just been an itch to clean but I warded off sleepiness and only took one nap today! Since I've been preggo I take two naps on Saturdays and two naps on Sundays. In the first trimester I spent most of the weekends sleeping - more time was spent asleep than awake. Ah, the joys of pregnancy.
It hit me very late on Saturday while Ryan was asleep and I was enjoying my icy foot soak too much to go to bed. I watched a Law & Order re-run and an old Oprah. I didn't watch Oprah this year but still had TiVo record it. Too many celebrities for my taste. After scanning the list of O re-runs I saw one that looked decent - the host of Clean Sweep was on. They showed us a home that was filled with clutter, top to bottom and they cleaned it out in one weekend. Our house is nothing like theirs but our closets are like little sadistic little demons, but what demon isn't sadistic? They call out to me from behind closed doors, "I'm a mess and there's nothing you can do about it."
Today I faced the big box of stuff that accumulated when I would 'clean' before company came over. You know, the box of stuff. You sweep, clean the kitchen, take care of the clothes that have been folded on the kitchen table for a week and before you know it - it's time for your guests to arrive. All of the little things need someplace to go and you have no time to make 8 trips to the basement, 4 to the foyer, 5 to the bedroom and so on. What to do? Gather up all the scattered items and put them in a box to 'take care' after the company leaves.
It's been a year and a half in this house. When this horrible practice started we were in the construction phase so the stuff in the boxes (2 boxes) is quite an assortment. Spackle, pens, stationary, photos, magazines. Gag. It's no wonder I've put it off. But no more!
I threw away, recycled actually, a year's worth of Real Simple and Realtor magazines. That felt good. I was never going to read them again. I cleaned out the linen/game/cleaners/catch all storage closet and made it into games/linens/toiletries. Woo-hoo. Goodwill is going to get a big box of linens and the landfill is going to get a ton of expired medicine. Ryan can not get a head ache or fall ill because we have no medicine for him. I even threw out old cosmetics that I don't use. Break through! My sister-in-law Jenny would be so proud of the progress I made.
When I was done throwing away stuff and putting it into Goodwill piles I was still itching to make a dent in our Pile 'O Stuff so I went to one last closet - the closet in the baby's room. There was my treasure trove of purses. If you know me you know I have a weak spot for purses. It is actually a surprising addiction because if you know me you also know I'm not a fashionista, not a girly girl. Growing up I despised the purse. I vowed I would never use one.
Then on one fateful day at the Vancouver mall, in a shoe store where I was buying a pair of shoes for some special event I spied a sales bin. In that sales bin was the purse that bit me and gave me the purse bug. It was a super cool black 50's (or earlier) style purse with a small handle and hard sides. The style has a name but I can't think of it. I used that purse for many years but the strap finally broke and was not repairable. It was such a cool purse that even guys would comment on it. (In hindsight they were probably trying to hit on me but I was so in love with my purse that I didn't think it unnatural that a straight guy would like it). It was with heavy heart I threw my much beloved purse away (many, many years after it broke, of course).
Now when we go on vacation I commemorate our trip not with a silver spoon or a T-shirt with the name of the place we visited on it but rather with a purse. In Maui I bought a coconut purse - it is a coconut sawed in half, lined with a Hawaiian print cloth and has a zipper and long strap. Great for luaus. In Tulsa (not a place to commemorate visiting but a great excuse to buy a purse), I bought a super cute and super feisty leopard print number. Vegas, Mexico, the Caribbean and Italy. I have a purse to remember each trip by.
So it came as a great shock to Ryan when I came out of the baby's room loaded with purses I no longer used. It was time to say goodbye and let move on to new shoulders. He is very concerned about me getting rid of them; he wants me to be absolutely certain I want to get rid of them because as he said, "Purses are your thing." It makes him sad to see me part with something I like so much. I'm only getting rid of one souvenir purse - bye bye leopard print from Tulsa. It was actually a good trip. I got to see my brother graduate from bible college, went to the Roy Rogers museum, another religious university (super ugly school, I'm not a fan of 60's/70's style architecture) and a really depressing museum of Christian martrys. The purse was from his school and I have no attachment to that school so sayonara!
Oh, boy, it's 5:30 am. I'm getting drowsy again. I woke up at 3:00 with "Sloopy" the oldies song blaring in my head. I couldn't find the off switch so I crawled out of bed and cleaned the kitchen, ate a nectarine and cut up strawberries to surprise Ryan with for his cereal in the morning. I'm hungry again. I'll grab another little something to eat and go back to bed for a couple of hours.
It's long awaited arrival came unannounced, no fan fare, no trumpets trumpeting but it's arrival was beautiful. Nesting arrived. It would have just been an itch to clean but I warded off sleepiness and only took one nap today! Since I've been preggo I take two naps on Saturdays and two naps on Sundays. In the first trimester I spent most of the weekends sleeping - more time was spent asleep than awake. Ah, the joys of pregnancy.
It hit me very late on Saturday while Ryan was asleep and I was enjoying my icy foot soak too much to go to bed. I watched a Law & Order re-run and an old Oprah. I didn't watch Oprah this year but still had TiVo record it. Too many celebrities for my taste. After scanning the list of O re-runs I saw one that looked decent - the host of Clean Sweep was on. They showed us a home that was filled with clutter, top to bottom and they cleaned it out in one weekend. Our house is nothing like theirs but our closets are like little sadistic little demons, but what demon isn't sadistic? They call out to me from behind closed doors, "I'm a mess and there's nothing you can do about it."
Today I faced the big box of stuff that accumulated when I would 'clean' before company came over. You know, the box of stuff. You sweep, clean the kitchen, take care of the clothes that have been folded on the kitchen table for a week and before you know it - it's time for your guests to arrive. All of the little things need someplace to go and you have no time to make 8 trips to the basement, 4 to the foyer, 5 to the bedroom and so on. What to do? Gather up all the scattered items and put them in a box to 'take care' after the company leaves.
It's been a year and a half in this house. When this horrible practice started we were in the construction phase so the stuff in the boxes (2 boxes) is quite an assortment. Spackle, pens, stationary, photos, magazines. Gag. It's no wonder I've put it off. But no more!
I threw away, recycled actually, a year's worth of Real Simple and Realtor magazines. That felt good. I was never going to read them again. I cleaned out the linen/game/cleaners/catch all storage closet and made it into games/linens/toiletries. Woo-hoo. Goodwill is going to get a big box of linens and the landfill is going to get a ton of expired medicine. Ryan can not get a head ache or fall ill because we have no medicine for him. I even threw out old cosmetics that I don't use. Break through! My sister-in-law Jenny would be so proud of the progress I made.
When I was done throwing away stuff and putting it into Goodwill piles I was still itching to make a dent in our Pile 'O Stuff so I went to one last closet - the closet in the baby's room. There was my treasure trove of purses. If you know me you know I have a weak spot for purses. It is actually a surprising addiction because if you know me you also know I'm not a fashionista, not a girly girl. Growing up I despised the purse. I vowed I would never use one.
Then on one fateful day at the Vancouver mall, in a shoe store where I was buying a pair of shoes for some special event I spied a sales bin. In that sales bin was the purse that bit me and gave me the purse bug. It was a super cool black 50's (or earlier) style purse with a small handle and hard sides. The style has a name but I can't think of it. I used that purse for many years but the strap finally broke and was not repairable. It was such a cool purse that even guys would comment on it. (In hindsight they were probably trying to hit on me but I was so in love with my purse that I didn't think it unnatural that a straight guy would like it). It was with heavy heart I threw my much beloved purse away (many, many years after it broke, of course).
Now when we go on vacation I commemorate our trip not with a silver spoon or a T-shirt with the name of the place we visited on it but rather with a purse. In Maui I bought a coconut purse - it is a coconut sawed in half, lined with a Hawaiian print cloth and has a zipper and long strap. Great for luaus. In Tulsa (not a place to commemorate visiting but a great excuse to buy a purse), I bought a super cute and super feisty leopard print number. Vegas, Mexico, the Caribbean and Italy. I have a purse to remember each trip by.
So it came as a great shock to Ryan when I came out of the baby's room loaded with purses I no longer used. It was time to say goodbye and let move on to new shoulders. He is very concerned about me getting rid of them; he wants me to be absolutely certain I want to get rid of them because as he said, "Purses are your thing." It makes him sad to see me part with something I like so much. I'm only getting rid of one souvenir purse - bye bye leopard print from Tulsa. It was actually a good trip. I got to see my brother graduate from bible college, went to the Roy Rogers museum, another religious university (super ugly school, I'm not a fan of 60's/70's style architecture) and a really depressing museum of Christian martrys. The purse was from his school and I have no attachment to that school so sayonara!
Oh, boy, it's 5:30 am. I'm getting drowsy again. I woke up at 3:00 with "Sloopy" the oldies song blaring in my head. I couldn't find the off switch so I crawled out of bed and cleaned the kitchen, ate a nectarine and cut up strawberries to surprise Ryan with for his cereal in the morning. I'm hungry again. I'll grab another little something to eat and go back to bed for a couple of hours.
Friday, July 13, 2007
Bleeding Ears
Today is the first day of West Seattle Summer Fest, a.k.a. the West Seattle Street Fair. The festival is on the street right in front of my office. Food, vendors, dogs and children; merriment all around to be had. I ate a so-so beef brisket sandwich at lunch; the gyros looked much better but they had a line and I was short on time. Maybe I should go to the stands with the longest lines; they probably have the best food.
After I scarfed my sandwich 'o meat I waddled back to the office and climbed in my car to head home to let the dog out. I managed to get 15 minutes of sleep in. That was great but way too short. I awoke sleepy and grumpy (for giggles the dog destroyed my new lime green mechanical pencils that were still in their packaging that I bought on sale) and it was time to go finish the other half of my shift.
When I arrived back at work the 'entertainment' part of the Fest had begun. The north sound stage is a stone's throw from our office. Hm, a stone's throw. Maybe I could take the lead singer out. It's bad. Really bad. You could give a physics lesson on sound waves with this band they are so out of key. Coming back to work in a less than peppy mood only to be met with the horrible sounds of "Capping Day" - a band for whom I do not predict great things - has NOT helped my mood. It is like being subjected to American Idol auditions, live.
Ah, they just took a break. I'll go clean the blood out of my ears now.
After I scarfed my sandwich 'o meat I waddled back to the office and climbed in my car to head home to let the dog out. I managed to get 15 minutes of sleep in. That was great but way too short. I awoke sleepy and grumpy (for giggles the dog destroyed my new lime green mechanical pencils that were still in their packaging that I bought on sale) and it was time to go finish the other half of my shift.
When I arrived back at work the 'entertainment' part of the Fest had begun. The north sound stage is a stone's throw from our office. Hm, a stone's throw. Maybe I could take the lead singer out. It's bad. Really bad. You could give a physics lesson on sound waves with this band they are so out of key. Coming back to work in a less than peppy mood only to be met with the horrible sounds of "Capping Day" - a band for whom I do not predict great things - has NOT helped my mood. It is like being subjected to American Idol auditions, live.
Ah, they just took a break. I'll go clean the blood out of my ears now.
Wednesday, July 11, 2007
Blessed and Angry
For about a month now I've been trying to get in to see a massage therapist under my health care plan. Pregnancy and the growth that occurs with it has not agreed with me. My back will spasm just for the heck of it on a short walk, while sitting at my desk - any time it feels like it really. It's not such a great feeling. Sure it is not the worst pain I've ever experienced but it is frequent enough and I imagine only going to get worse as my front load grows ever larger that I would like to have some sort of intervention since drugs are obviously out of the question.
Hence I contacted my insurance company and was Delighted (I was so delighted it called for a capital 'D') to learn massage therapy was covered. Then I was pleased to learn my midwife could make the referral which would save me the hassle of calling my primary's office and leaving a message for her who would leave a message for the referral coordinator to make the referral. I just had to call my midwife or shoot her an e-mail and wa-lah - massage therapy benefits are activated! A week later I see my midwife who is stumped, as is the office staff, at PacifiCare. They were told on one phone call that the midwife can not make the referral that only the primary can. One another call they were told that I didn't have coverage for that benefit. So I said to not worry about it, I would just call my primary's office and make the request.
Request goes in. A week later I receive a notice that the referral has been generated and is to a Massage Therapist in Burien, not West Seattle as I had requested and it had a curious stamp on it that said pre-authorization was not required (red flag - but I'll get to that later); the referral was for the same person who worked in a clinic that had two locations. I called PacifiCare to make sure I could see the SAME provider at the SAME clinic but at the West Seattle branch. No, that was just not acceptable. The doctor would have to submit a new referral for the West Seattle clinic, never mind it is the same clinic! I called two more times and asked the same question and got a different answer. Two of the three people told me I could go to either clinic so I wrote down each of their names, the date and time I called just so I have some back up if all three were wrong and PacifiCare tries to be shysters about paying. I also learned on that call that PacifiCare didn't receive the referral but that it takes up to 10 days for it to be processed. So I wait a week and call back but in the mean time I called my primary's office to make sure the referral was sent to PacifiCare. The receptionist at my primary's office assured me it had been sent.
Monday rolls around and I call PacifiCare after waiting a sufficient amount of time for the paper work to be processed. They still had not received the referral. Lame. I called my primary's office and leave a message for the referral coordinator telling her that PacifiCare needs the referral. Tuesday afternoon I call the referral coordinator and leave another message asking her to return yesterday's call. She called back after a few hours to tell me she didn't send the referral to PacifiCare because they never require pre-authorization for Massage Therapy. Great. I'm the one exception to the rule. I told her the last person I talked to heaved out our benefits manual and read to me the part about needing pre-authorization. Referral Coordinator apologized and said she would call PC and get it taken care of. Goodie.
This morning RC calls. PacifiCare told her to contact the ASHS group of alternative health care providers to submit the request. ASHS then tells RC that their contract with PC ended June 30th (even I knew that). Jackasses, the whole lot of them at PC! Through the magic of the Internet I found the phone number for the newly contracted group of Alternative Health Care Providers and give it to the RC who by the way earns every cent of her wage because she has to deal with insurance companies and the drones they hire.
Receive a call a few hours later from RC. No referral is needed. Not from the doctor, not from the Massage Therapist and no pre-authorization is required. PacifiCare does not enter the loop until AFTER the first visit with the MT! You've got to be freakin' kidding me!!! It took a month to get to that answer?! And, I just found out that the MT has to contact PC after the first visit to get pre-authorization for continuing visits.
Then I got to start the wonderful journey of finding a provider in Seattle who was in the American Chiropractic Network that accepted PacifiCare that provided prenatal massage that had hours I could work with.
Being the dork that I am and growing ever more so into one thanks to Ryan, I did my new favorite thing and made an excel spreadsheet. Watch out folks, April knows how to have a good time! On said spreadsheet I put in all of the providers and make room for their hours. Everyone was regular business hours. Then something glorious happened... a provider offered appointments until 8pm! I was so excited I said, "No! 8pm? That's great! What do you have this Friday evening?" "By the way, I have PacifiCare." The whole group dumped PacifiCare last year! PacifiCare is such a pain in the proverbial posterior that the providers dump them. No one has gotten around to taking their name off the approved provider list. It was so sad I almost cried.
Fortunately I found someone who is willing to stay late and see me after work but she can't squeeze me in for 2 more weeks. Do I go during work and go through the hassle of finding someone to cover my shift for an hour and a half or suffer for 2 more weeks?
I pretty well covered the angry part, so much hassle for a service we pay for, now the blessed part. I remember the day back in college when I was on my parent's insurance that covered major medical illnesses that was only good if you were hit by a car or had a brain tumor. The blessed part is pretty simple and obvious. I have health insurance. Health insurance that not only covers seeing the doctor with $10 co-pays and prescription benefits but I have insurance that covers massage therapy. The whole labor and delivery and all of my prenatal visits are only going to cost us $50. $50! That's a one time co-pay. How unreal is that? Sure Ryan has to pay a portion of his insurance deductible for himself and for me - and soon little Jermaine but that's still one heck of a deal.
This may not be the most exciting read of my posts but it sure has been therapeutic writing it all down, especially when I put it in perspective at the end. It's a headache worth having.
Hence I contacted my insurance company and was Delighted (I was so delighted it called for a capital 'D') to learn massage therapy was covered. Then I was pleased to learn my midwife could make the referral which would save me the hassle of calling my primary's office and leaving a message for her who would leave a message for the referral coordinator to make the referral. I just had to call my midwife or shoot her an e-mail and wa-lah - massage therapy benefits are activated! A week later I see my midwife who is stumped, as is the office staff, at PacifiCare. They were told on one phone call that the midwife can not make the referral that only the primary can. One another call they were told that I didn't have coverage for that benefit. So I said to not worry about it, I would just call my primary's office and make the request.
Request goes in. A week later I receive a notice that the referral has been generated and is to a Massage Therapist in Burien, not West Seattle as I had requested and it had a curious stamp on it that said pre-authorization was not required (red flag - but I'll get to that later); the referral was for the same person who worked in a clinic that had two locations. I called PacifiCare to make sure I could see the SAME provider at the SAME clinic but at the West Seattle branch. No, that was just not acceptable. The doctor would have to submit a new referral for the West Seattle clinic, never mind it is the same clinic! I called two more times and asked the same question and got a different answer. Two of the three people told me I could go to either clinic so I wrote down each of their names, the date and time I called just so I have some back up if all three were wrong and PacifiCare tries to be shysters about paying. I also learned on that call that PacifiCare didn't receive the referral but that it takes up to 10 days for it to be processed. So I wait a week and call back but in the mean time I called my primary's office to make sure the referral was sent to PacifiCare. The receptionist at my primary's office assured me it had been sent.
Monday rolls around and I call PacifiCare after waiting a sufficient amount of time for the paper work to be processed. They still had not received the referral. Lame. I called my primary's office and leave a message for the referral coordinator telling her that PacifiCare needs the referral. Tuesday afternoon I call the referral coordinator and leave another message asking her to return yesterday's call. She called back after a few hours to tell me she didn't send the referral to PacifiCare because they never require pre-authorization for Massage Therapy. Great. I'm the one exception to the rule. I told her the last person I talked to heaved out our benefits manual and read to me the part about needing pre-authorization. Referral Coordinator apologized and said she would call PC and get it taken care of. Goodie.
This morning RC calls. PacifiCare told her to contact the ASHS group of alternative health care providers to submit the request. ASHS then tells RC that their contract with PC ended June 30th (even I knew that). Jackasses, the whole lot of them at PC! Through the magic of the Internet I found the phone number for the newly contracted group of Alternative Health Care Providers and give it to the RC who by the way earns every cent of her wage because she has to deal with insurance companies and the drones they hire.
Receive a call a few hours later from RC. No referral is needed. Not from the doctor, not from the Massage Therapist and no pre-authorization is required. PacifiCare does not enter the loop until AFTER the first visit with the MT! You've got to be freakin' kidding me!!! It took a month to get to that answer?! And, I just found out that the MT has to contact PC after the first visit to get pre-authorization for continuing visits.
Then I got to start the wonderful journey of finding a provider in Seattle who was in the American Chiropractic Network that accepted PacifiCare that provided prenatal massage that had hours I could work with.
Being the dork that I am and growing ever more so into one thanks to Ryan, I did my new favorite thing and made an excel spreadsheet. Watch out folks, April knows how to have a good time! On said spreadsheet I put in all of the providers and make room for their hours. Everyone was regular business hours. Then something glorious happened... a provider offered appointments until 8pm! I was so excited I said, "No! 8pm? That's great! What do you have this Friday evening?" "By the way, I have PacifiCare." The whole group dumped PacifiCare last year! PacifiCare is such a pain in the proverbial posterior that the providers dump them. No one has gotten around to taking their name off the approved provider list. It was so sad I almost cried.
Fortunately I found someone who is willing to stay late and see me after work but she can't squeeze me in for 2 more weeks. Do I go during work and go through the hassle of finding someone to cover my shift for an hour and a half or suffer for 2 more weeks?
I pretty well covered the angry part, so much hassle for a service we pay for, now the blessed part. I remember the day back in college when I was on my parent's insurance that covered major medical illnesses that was only good if you were hit by a car or had a brain tumor. The blessed part is pretty simple and obvious. I have health insurance. Health insurance that not only covers seeing the doctor with $10 co-pays and prescription benefits but I have insurance that covers massage therapy. The whole labor and delivery and all of my prenatal visits are only going to cost us $50. $50! That's a one time co-pay. How unreal is that? Sure Ryan has to pay a portion of his insurance deductible for himself and for me - and soon little Jermaine but that's still one heck of a deal.
This may not be the most exciting read of my posts but it sure has been therapeutic writing it all down, especially when I put it in perspective at the end. It's a headache worth having.
Tuesday, July 10, 2007
Just call me Homer
Yeah, you know what that means. It was entirely too hot today for a lot of clothes; it was over 90 and tomorrow is going to be at least 95. The house was well over 80 inside before I cooked dinner and really heated up the house. After eating dinner and washing the dishes I thought I would just sit down and put my hideously swollen feet up. Way too hot. I headed into the bedroom and put on a plain white t and headed into the living room. (By the way, the Plain White Ts is a great band - check out their song "Delilah"). I rounded the corner into the living room to present myself to Ryan to make sure he was cool with me hanging out - pun intended - in my T-shirt and undies. He laughed and said he didn't care. What do you know? Wearing as little as a lady can get away with (who is slowly becoming uncivilized and very un-lady like) worked! I cooled down enough that I had to get up and put on more clothes.
That was last night. Today is a little hotter and by a little I mean a lot; 7 degrees makes a big difference. Sure those of you reading this in Georgia or Okla -gag- homa - I can't even write it without shuddering- may be poo-poohing my complaints about the heat because you are in searing heat with humidity to match. Well, that sucks for you that you have to live in the South. We in the majestic Northwest are accustomed to pleasant 70 degree summers (and wet, wet, wet winters but that is what gives us our glorious greenery and it is not pertinent to my whining of the extreme heat we are having) and when the mercury - or whatever they use in thermometers these days - rises above 80 we wither and retreat to the air-conditioned spaces like Starbucks with their burnt coffee and pleasant atmosphere while the younger crowd has a different way to beat the heat. Scantily clad hoochie mamas head to Alki beach to entice the gang-bangin' wannabes trying to get their 'wazzup' on to yell all sorts of 'flattering' comments at them from their low-riding cars that match their low riding pants in an effort to hook up and swap diseases transmitted through bodily fluids. Then there are the super young kids (junior high) who look up to the hoochie mamas and gang-bangin' wannabes in their rituals of courtship and learn how to relate to the opposite sex. Scary. Their parents really should keep a better eye on them.
In other news from Van Row - Red Van Man is now Red Station Wagon man. Last week I saw him across the street sitting on the grass under the shade of a young tree eating lunch. A woman and gaggle of kids walking on the sidewalk passed him and crossed the grassy strip to the van. She had opened the passenger door and the gaggle of kids filed in. She walked around, looked at me - not a look to concern me - just looked, and climbed into the drivers seat. That's the last I've seen of the red van but not the last I've seen of Red Van man, now Red Station Wagon Man. His comings and goings are less regular since the red van was whisked away by the woman and gaggle of kids but he's still a familiar site. I must say I prefer the van. He was not at eye level when I was getting in and out of my car. It kind of makes me feel like a dog that I don't like making eye contact with him. When Kea has been a naughty dog (which she frequently is) she will not make eye contact and when she does it is fleeting - as if she is testing the water. Well, I digress yet again. There's actually not much more to say about Station Wagon man. He showed up at 4 am today and was gone when I got up but was back at his post when I left for work. At lunch time when I went home his car was there, minus him, with the drivers side window rolled down. I guess he didn't want to hang out in a car that was baking in the sun all day - maybe he was lying down in the back.
Stay cool and stay tuned for a story about my insurance company that will make your blood boil - or at least sympathize with my state of boiling blood. : )
That was last night. Today is a little hotter and by a little I mean a lot; 7 degrees makes a big difference. Sure those of you reading this in Georgia or Okla -gag- homa - I can't even write it without shuddering- may be poo-poohing my complaints about the heat because you are in searing heat with humidity to match. Well, that sucks for you that you have to live in the South. We in the majestic Northwest are accustomed to pleasant 70 degree summers (and wet, wet, wet winters but that is what gives us our glorious greenery and it is not pertinent to my whining of the extreme heat we are having) and when the mercury - or whatever they use in thermometers these days - rises above 80 we wither and retreat to the air-conditioned spaces like Starbucks with their burnt coffee and pleasant atmosphere while the younger crowd has a different way to beat the heat. Scantily clad hoochie mamas head to Alki beach to entice the gang-bangin' wannabes trying to get their 'wazzup' on to yell all sorts of 'flattering' comments at them from their low-riding cars that match their low riding pants in an effort to hook up and swap diseases transmitted through bodily fluids. Then there are the super young kids (junior high) who look up to the hoochie mamas and gang-bangin' wannabes in their rituals of courtship and learn how to relate to the opposite sex. Scary. Their parents really should keep a better eye on them.
In other news from Van Row - Red Van Man is now Red Station Wagon man. Last week I saw him across the street sitting on the grass under the shade of a young tree eating lunch. A woman and gaggle of kids walking on the sidewalk passed him and crossed the grassy strip to the van. She had opened the passenger door and the gaggle of kids filed in. She walked around, looked at me - not a look to concern me - just looked, and climbed into the drivers seat. That's the last I've seen of the red van but not the last I've seen of Red Van man, now Red Station Wagon Man. His comings and goings are less regular since the red van was whisked away by the woman and gaggle of kids but he's still a familiar site. I must say I prefer the van. He was not at eye level when I was getting in and out of my car. It kind of makes me feel like a dog that I don't like making eye contact with him. When Kea has been a naughty dog (which she frequently is) she will not make eye contact and when she does it is fleeting - as if she is testing the water. Well, I digress yet again. There's actually not much more to say about Station Wagon man. He showed up at 4 am today and was gone when I got up but was back at his post when I left for work. At lunch time when I went home his car was there, minus him, with the drivers side window rolled down. I guess he didn't want to hang out in a car that was baking in the sun all day - maybe he was lying down in the back.
Stay cool and stay tuned for a story about my insurance company that will make your blood boil - or at least sympathize with my state of boiling blood. : )
Tuesday, July 03, 2007
One Glorious Hour
What could put me in such a great mood? Leaving work one hour early. There is a big difference between leaving at 5pm and leaving at 6pm (the difference is even greater in Autumn and Winter but I'll take it anyway I can get it). I have big plans.
1. Play with Kea; it's a lot more fun for her than it is for me. I just stand there and throw the ball while she runs like the retriever she is to retrieve the ball.
2. Change out of this dress! It's a super cute maternity dress but I've been in it all day. Exciting stuff.
3. Clean out my future Outdoor Living Room space. I am going to haul out the old rusted round table that is in there now (left by the previous owner) and scrub it with hard bristle scrubber and soapy water. Then I'm going to spray paint it (while wearing a mask - outdoors, ventilation doesn't get much better than that).
4. Bake the summer pasta dish I made a couple of weeks ago and froze for a time when I didn't want to cook (which is often).
*********
Well, it is 8:34 in the evening and what have I done with my one extra glorious hour?
1. I played with the dog until she petered out. I kind of like the hot weather because she quits chasing the ball much sooner. She can't pant really hard and keep a tennis ball in her mouth - it really impedes the retrieving of the ball.
2. I'm still in my dress but see #3.
3. Instead of cleaning the rusty old table I botched some puzzles while lying in bed in my wife beater tank top (dress was off briefly but went back on - see#4) and took a nap with our over sized ceiling fan cooling me off (thanks to Ryan for turning on the ceiling fan after snickering upon seeing me in said wife beater on the bed with the blankets all piled on his side and my Buddha belly hanging out of my tank top; attractive, I know.
4. Partook of summer pasta dish that I took out of the freezer that Ryan cooked while I was napping in my half naked state of hotness - purely a statement of my thermal being - since it has been established that a half naked pregnant lady may be cute as in the way a kitten is cute she is not 'hot' in that miserable state. I put my nifty maternity dress back on to eat dinner in the living room as I'm a cilivilzed woman; I'm no Homer Simpson, I'm not going to eat dinner in my underoos. Ooh, they should make underoos for adults. I used to love my underoos. I think I had Wonder Woman underoos; yeah, I was super cool.
Tomorrow is Independence Day. We're going to a barbecue my friend Jenn is hosting in Magnolia - I haven't spent much time with her lately so it will be nice to see her and as a bonus the location should have a decent view of the fireworks. I don't know what side dish to bring to share. Maybe caprese salad - but that is mess to make. Maybe I'll 'make' potato salad from Metropolitan Market. Yes, I like that idea.
Hope everyone has a safe 4th of July .
1. Play with Kea; it's a lot more fun for her than it is for me. I just stand there and throw the ball while she runs like the retriever she is to retrieve the ball.
2. Change out of this dress! It's a super cute maternity dress but I've been in it all day. Exciting stuff.
3. Clean out my future Outdoor Living Room space. I am going to haul out the old rusted round table that is in there now (left by the previous owner) and scrub it with hard bristle scrubber and soapy water. Then I'm going to spray paint it (while wearing a mask - outdoors, ventilation doesn't get much better than that).
4. Bake the summer pasta dish I made a couple of weeks ago and froze for a time when I didn't want to cook (which is often).
*********
Well, it is 8:34 in the evening and what have I done with my one extra glorious hour?
1. I played with the dog until she petered out. I kind of like the hot weather because she quits chasing the ball much sooner. She can't pant really hard and keep a tennis ball in her mouth - it really impedes the retrieving of the ball.
2. I'm still in my dress but see #3.
3. Instead of cleaning the rusty old table I botched some puzzles while lying in bed in my wife beater tank top (dress was off briefly but went back on - see#4) and took a nap with our over sized ceiling fan cooling me off (thanks to Ryan for turning on the ceiling fan after snickering upon seeing me in said wife beater on the bed with the blankets all piled on his side and my Buddha belly hanging out of my tank top; attractive, I know.
4. Partook of summer pasta dish that I took out of the freezer that Ryan cooked while I was napping in my half naked state of hotness - purely a statement of my thermal being - since it has been established that a half naked pregnant lady may be cute as in the way a kitten is cute she is not 'hot' in that miserable state. I put my nifty maternity dress back on to eat dinner in the living room as I'm a cilivilzed woman; I'm no Homer Simpson, I'm not going to eat dinner in my underoos. Ooh, they should make underoos for adults. I used to love my underoos. I think I had Wonder Woman underoos; yeah, I was super cool.
Tomorrow is Independence Day. We're going to a barbecue my friend Jenn is hosting in Magnolia - I haven't spent much time with her lately so it will be nice to see her and as a bonus the location should have a decent view of the fireworks. I don't know what side dish to bring to share. Maybe caprese salad - but that is mess to make. Maybe I'll 'make' potato salad from Metropolitan Market. Yes, I like that idea.
Hope everyone has a safe 4th of July .
Thursday, June 28, 2007
Still Up & Coming
It's 3 am and I cannot sleep; I'm wide awake, not even a little tired. It has been a while since I've had insomnia and this is can be blamed on adrenaline - it's aftermath continues on. Ryan is playing games on his gameboy thingy - Nintendo DS. He loves that thing.
For the past month or so there has been a man parking his van across the street for a week or so at a time. He lives in the van. I kept a wary eye on him at first because we had a guy sometime late Winter that was sleeping in his truck for a few nights - at first he was parked kitty corner to us and it seemed each night his truck moved a little closer to our house. One night before turning in (wow, that's an old person statement if ever there was one) I let the dog out who proceeded to bark and bark and bark at something. I peeked through the blinds in the front window and saw the man and a dog in his truck - the guy waved at me peeking through the blinds. I called the dog in then I called the police. He pushed my button. It took that gesture for me to call the police - I didn't call earlier because some guy was down on his luck and had to live in his truck - although a preferable place for one who is living in ones car is NOT in front of my house. There are lots of bridges and overpasses under which one can park one's vehicle. There is a bridge not so far from our house that is the proverbial bridge under which one should not pass under past dusk. I'm sure it is not the safest place to park a vehicle but isn't' that what locks are for? Well, now I'm starting to sound like a snob.
Back to the story. I called the cops, told my story, someone came out rather quickly; cop and creepy truck man had words - nothing heated from what I could tell. Creepy man in creepy truck drove away. I haven't seen him since. Maybe he went back to dwelling under a bridge. Or, better yet, he was able to find gainful employment and is sleeping in a bed in a safe place.
So man in burgundy van made me cautious - when he was in his van I would give Kea the signal to bark - it's never a bad idea to bring attention to the fact that a dog does in fact reside in the house and that the dog barks - never mind barking is not her thing and tail wagging and prancing for joy like a kid hopped up on sugar is her thing. Dog that barks = some level of added security. Then I noticed Burgundy van man shaving in the morning and getting out of van and walking to the center - where he works - grounds maintenance of some sort. He leaves on the weekends and comes back during the week. Ryan noticed he has a small portable TV that he watches whilst sitting in the van when he gets off work. Van man doesn't stare at us, doesn't say hi to us, he just leaves us alone which I really APPRECIATE. Ours is a relationship of mutual ignoring.
Then tonight there is burgundy van with non-threatening, employed but not making enough to afford a bed somewhere man in his abode minding his own business. There is now also a big, old blue van with some sort of pop up top. The back window has curtains. I pop my head in the house to ask Ryan if the blue van is the "Hookermobile". When we first moved in our neighbors told us about the prostitute who 'works' our area - an older woman who I, upon seeing her, determined is CLEARLY a discount hooker - sporadically and not as often as in the past because like the title the post implies, our neighborhood is still smack in the middle of the "Up and coming" stage of gentrification.
Ryan asks me why I think he knows what the "Hookermobile" looks like. I tell him I'm watching him while giving him the two finger eye point from me to him like in Meet the Parents. I step back outside and finish eating my apple and continue my encouragements of the dog and her pottying all the while staring at the van. There was someone in the front seat and someone moved the curtains in the back. No other motion was detected in the van. I determined by the lack of motion, rocking if you will, that the van was indeed, not the Hookermobile.
Before I let Kea in I tried to get her to speak but she just freaked out and ran around the yard like a rabid dog and made funny grunting/growling sounds. Eh, I'll take crazy rabid looking dog to show off to the strangers sleeping in van #2.
Each time I got up to relieve my compressed bladder I peeked through the curtains to look at the van. Not a lot to see. Just a van with street lights shining on it. I lay back in bed ready to go back to the land of weird preggo dreams when I hear a car door slam shut. I pop out of bed and see a dark figure walking up the stairs from the sidewalk to our house! "Ryan! Some is coming up the stairs!" A startled Ryan pops up out of bed and comes over to the window. The guy is now at our door and there is another person in the street also advancing toward our house. My heart is racing and I'm thinking, "is he going to break into our house? What does he want?" Then he rings the doorbell 3 or 4 times. OK, not a burglar - unless he is ringing the doorbell to get us to the door so he can politely ask us to leave while he takes all our earthly possessions. Ryan lowers a window and asks the shirtless Hispanic man what he wants. As soon the window is open you hear the other person in the street, a large white woman, yelling at him. Hispanic man asks us to call the police. Large white woman holds up what looks to be a phone in her hand and says, "I'll call the police! You tell me who to call and I'll call the police!" These two so belonged on the show "Cops".
I pad into the kitchen to call the non-emergency police number - they were fighting over the van. Eh. The non-emergency line (that I took down from my first call to the police about the creepy man in the truck) is now a business hour only line and they quickly give an alternate number to call. I grab a marker but I can't remember the number and there's no way to repeat the message so I hang up, call again and jot down the number. A lot of work to go to, I'm sure, but I don't want to clog the 911 system with non-emergency calls. The second number is truly a non-emergency number. Illegally parked vehicles, abandoned vehicles... there were 9 options. I only listened to the first few and realized the option I needed - homeless people fighting over a van - was probably not there so I hung up and called 911.
It must be a slow crime night in Seattle because in less than 5 minutes not one, not two but three cop cars showed up. One dude even left his lone red flashing light on. Kind of obnoxious but I shouldn't complain - they answered the call and arrived pronto.
Interruption: The dog is having a dream. Her paws are twitching and she's barking in her sleep. It's a quiet, high pitched bark that makes her cheeks puff out - it's beyond cute. Great, now she's snoring. I hate snoring. I may have to wake her up.
OK, back to the cops arrival. I watch everything through our bedroom windows with the curtains parted and give Ryan the play by play as I see it 'going down' while he is playing a game on his DS. Shirtless Hispanic man gives his side of the story (thanks to our newly installed windows I can not hear a thing save the whistle of the train down in SODO) as evidenced by his outstretched arm pointing at the van then off in the distance then to our house. He sits down on the curb. Large white woman has the stage. Her side of the story is much more lively as there is much more pointing and waiving of the arms. Keys are held high above her head, our house is pointed at. Mr. Cop sitting in car #1 is running their IDs. Mr Cop from car #2 is questioning both parties and ferrying IDs to and from involved parties. Cop from car #3 is bored. He looks takes his flash light and walks up the sidewalk in front of our house and inspects that which falls under the yellow beam of light - the grassy patch of city owned land by the street, the neighbors shrubs, our steps. There is nothing of interest to be found.
Cop #2 has Shirtless Hispanic man put his hands behind his back then cuffs him while he is sitting on the curb then walks him to the hood of #1's car and checks his pockets. It's kind of weird seeing a man stick his hands in another man's pants pockets. After the search - not much of an upper body search since everything was in plain sight - he is led back to curb where he sits again.
Large white woman is given her id back. Shirtless man is put in the back of #1's car to which Ryan commented, "What an idiot! He asked us to call the cops." I agree. Idiot. But who says criminals are smart? Lady gets back in van and all three cops leave.
The End.
One more exciting adventure in our neck of the woods. For the parties reading this that may be concerned.... this neighborhood actually feels safer than our old neighborhood. At the other house we had someone try to enter our house on New Year's Eve when we answered the door - we just arrived home and thought it was our neighbor friend (found out the next morning he was drunk and tried to enter every one's house on our street looking for another party and presumably more booze). On another occasion our neighbor across the street had a gun pulled on him after he told a young punk to slow down in his car. What else? Oh, a meth lab 2 doors down and a crack/meth and who knows what else house at the end of the street. See, our move seemed like a move down but if anything it was lateral and maybe, just maybe, a little bit better. We have 3 neighbors on our street. Next door they are business people and wear suits to work, the guy on the other side is an artist with a 3 year old who is getting cuter and chattier by the day and the ones at the end of the street - I don't remember what they do but they are nice and have a toddler son and they invited us to their open house - they moved in shortly after we did. We looked at their house and decided it wasn't for us. That made for some awkward conversation. David, I think that's his name, said, "So, you guys probably looked at this house, too and decided you didn't like it." Yipes. What do say in response to that? We told him it was too close to the busy road - which was true. We didn't like that it was adjacent to such a busy street. It seems much quieter 3 houses in.
OK, now I'm just rambling. I'm tired again but I'm also hungry. Time for snack then beddie-by again.
For the past month or so there has been a man parking his van across the street for a week or so at a time. He lives in the van. I kept a wary eye on him at first because we had a guy sometime late Winter that was sleeping in his truck for a few nights - at first he was parked kitty corner to us and it seemed each night his truck moved a little closer to our house. One night before turning in (wow, that's an old person statement if ever there was one) I let the dog out who proceeded to bark and bark and bark at something. I peeked through the blinds in the front window and saw the man and a dog in his truck - the guy waved at me peeking through the blinds. I called the dog in then I called the police. He pushed my button. It took that gesture for me to call the police - I didn't call earlier because some guy was down on his luck and had to live in his truck - although a preferable place for one who is living in ones car is NOT in front of my house. There are lots of bridges and overpasses under which one can park one's vehicle. There is a bridge not so far from our house that is the proverbial bridge under which one should not pass under past dusk. I'm sure it is not the safest place to park a vehicle but isn't' that what locks are for? Well, now I'm starting to sound like a snob.
Back to the story. I called the cops, told my story, someone came out rather quickly; cop and creepy truck man had words - nothing heated from what I could tell. Creepy man in creepy truck drove away. I haven't seen him since. Maybe he went back to dwelling under a bridge. Or, better yet, he was able to find gainful employment and is sleeping in a bed in a safe place.
So man in burgundy van made me cautious - when he was in his van I would give Kea the signal to bark - it's never a bad idea to bring attention to the fact that a dog does in fact reside in the house and that the dog barks - never mind barking is not her thing and tail wagging and prancing for joy like a kid hopped up on sugar is her thing. Dog that barks = some level of added security. Then I noticed Burgundy van man shaving in the morning and getting out of van and walking to the center - where he works - grounds maintenance of some sort. He leaves on the weekends and comes back during the week. Ryan noticed he has a small portable TV that he watches whilst sitting in the van when he gets off work. Van man doesn't stare at us, doesn't say hi to us, he just leaves us alone which I really APPRECIATE. Ours is a relationship of mutual ignoring.
Then tonight there is burgundy van with non-threatening, employed but not making enough to afford a bed somewhere man in his abode minding his own business. There is now also a big, old blue van with some sort of pop up top. The back window has curtains. I pop my head in the house to ask Ryan if the blue van is the "Hookermobile". When we first moved in our neighbors told us about the prostitute who 'works' our area - an older woman who I, upon seeing her, determined is CLEARLY a discount hooker - sporadically and not as often as in the past because like the title the post implies, our neighborhood is still smack in the middle of the "Up and coming" stage of gentrification.
Ryan asks me why I think he knows what the "Hookermobile" looks like. I tell him I'm watching him while giving him the two finger eye point from me to him like in Meet the Parents. I step back outside and finish eating my apple and continue my encouragements of the dog and her pottying all the while staring at the van. There was someone in the front seat and someone moved the curtains in the back. No other motion was detected in the van. I determined by the lack of motion, rocking if you will, that the van was indeed, not the Hookermobile.
Before I let Kea in I tried to get her to speak but she just freaked out and ran around the yard like a rabid dog and made funny grunting/growling sounds. Eh, I'll take crazy rabid looking dog to show off to the strangers sleeping in van #2.
Each time I got up to relieve my compressed bladder I peeked through the curtains to look at the van. Not a lot to see. Just a van with street lights shining on it. I lay back in bed ready to go back to the land of weird preggo dreams when I hear a car door slam shut. I pop out of bed and see a dark figure walking up the stairs from the sidewalk to our house! "Ryan! Some is coming up the stairs!" A startled Ryan pops up out of bed and comes over to the window. The guy is now at our door and there is another person in the street also advancing toward our house. My heart is racing and I'm thinking, "is he going to break into our house? What does he want?" Then he rings the doorbell 3 or 4 times. OK, not a burglar - unless he is ringing the doorbell to get us to the door so he can politely ask us to leave while he takes all our earthly possessions. Ryan lowers a window and asks the shirtless Hispanic man what he wants. As soon the window is open you hear the other person in the street, a large white woman, yelling at him. Hispanic man asks us to call the police. Large white woman holds up what looks to be a phone in her hand and says, "I'll call the police! You tell me who to call and I'll call the police!" These two so belonged on the show "Cops".
I pad into the kitchen to call the non-emergency police number - they were fighting over the van. Eh. The non-emergency line (that I took down from my first call to the police about the creepy man in the truck) is now a business hour only line and they quickly give an alternate number to call. I grab a marker but I can't remember the number and there's no way to repeat the message so I hang up, call again and jot down the number. A lot of work to go to, I'm sure, but I don't want to clog the 911 system with non-emergency calls. The second number is truly a non-emergency number. Illegally parked vehicles, abandoned vehicles... there were 9 options. I only listened to the first few and realized the option I needed - homeless people fighting over a van - was probably not there so I hung up and called 911.
It must be a slow crime night in Seattle because in less than 5 minutes not one, not two but three cop cars showed up. One dude even left his lone red flashing light on. Kind of obnoxious but I shouldn't complain - they answered the call and arrived pronto.
Interruption: The dog is having a dream. Her paws are twitching and she's barking in her sleep. It's a quiet, high pitched bark that makes her cheeks puff out - it's beyond cute. Great, now she's snoring. I hate snoring. I may have to wake her up.
OK, back to the cops arrival. I watch everything through our bedroom windows with the curtains parted and give Ryan the play by play as I see it 'going down' while he is playing a game on his DS. Shirtless Hispanic man gives his side of the story (thanks to our newly installed windows I can not hear a thing save the whistle of the train down in SODO) as evidenced by his outstretched arm pointing at the van then off in the distance then to our house. He sits down on the curb. Large white woman has the stage. Her side of the story is much more lively as there is much more pointing and waiving of the arms. Keys are held high above her head, our house is pointed at. Mr. Cop sitting in car #1 is running their IDs. Mr Cop from car #2 is questioning both parties and ferrying IDs to and from involved parties. Cop from car #3 is bored. He looks takes his flash light and walks up the sidewalk in front of our house and inspects that which falls under the yellow beam of light - the grassy patch of city owned land by the street, the neighbors shrubs, our steps. There is nothing of interest to be found.
Cop #2 has Shirtless Hispanic man put his hands behind his back then cuffs him while he is sitting on the curb then walks him to the hood of #1's car and checks his pockets. It's kind of weird seeing a man stick his hands in another man's pants pockets. After the search - not much of an upper body search since everything was in plain sight - he is led back to curb where he sits again.
Large white woman is given her id back. Shirtless man is put in the back of #1's car to which Ryan commented, "What an idiot! He asked us to call the cops." I agree. Idiot. But who says criminals are smart? Lady gets back in van and all three cops leave.
The End.
One more exciting adventure in our neck of the woods. For the parties reading this that may be concerned.... this neighborhood actually feels safer than our old neighborhood. At the other house we had someone try to enter our house on New Year's Eve when we answered the door - we just arrived home and thought it was our neighbor friend (found out the next morning he was drunk and tried to enter every one's house on our street looking for another party and presumably more booze). On another occasion our neighbor across the street had a gun pulled on him after he told a young punk to slow down in his car. What else? Oh, a meth lab 2 doors down and a crack/meth and who knows what else house at the end of the street. See, our move seemed like a move down but if anything it was lateral and maybe, just maybe, a little bit better. We have 3 neighbors on our street. Next door they are business people and wear suits to work, the guy on the other side is an artist with a 3 year old who is getting cuter and chattier by the day and the ones at the end of the street - I don't remember what they do but they are nice and have a toddler son and they invited us to their open house - they moved in shortly after we did. We looked at their house and decided it wasn't for us. That made for some awkward conversation. David, I think that's his name, said, "So, you guys probably looked at this house, too and decided you didn't like it." Yipes. What do say in response to that? We told him it was too close to the busy road - which was true. We didn't like that it was adjacent to such a busy street. It seems much quieter 3 houses in.
OK, now I'm just rambling. I'm tired again but I'm also hungry. Time for snack then beddie-by again.
Monday, June 25, 2007
Driving Miss April (Crazy)
We just signed up for childbirth/labor/your-life-as-you-know-it-is-over classes tonight. There are a total of 5 classes that will range from 2 hours to 8 hours. One class we opted to take in one day instead of a manageable 4, 6 or even 8 smaller classes. By 'we' I mean Ryan. He is kind of a willing participant in all of these classes so I opted to take the all day classes so we only have to take 5 days instead 10 or 12. Ryan pointed out to me that he will end up taking more classes than me - if he does have to attend all of the classes because he is taking the dad's only Conscious Fathering class (aka Baby Boot Camp). Oh, well. I have to gain at least 25 pounds and have a parade of nurses poke and prod me while I'm naked in a sterile room pushing a human out of my body. Good times.
I'm really not looking forward to labor but who does? I am well aware that women have been giving birth for thousands of years (and lots of them were dying during childbirth but people don't bring that up). I know. This is the first time I've given birth. Besides, if a cave woman were given the opportunity to have an epidural do you really think she would turn it down? I think not. I tell everyone I'm going in to the hospital with a bulls eye on my back for the anesthesiologist. : ) I would really like to not experience a great deal of pain.
Last weekend I was in Vancouver for Crina's shower and for Father's Day. On Sunday we had a family dinner with my brother and his family. My nephew, Matthew, 3 years old, is fascinated by pregnant bellies. I wonder what is going on inside his head when we tell him I have a baby in my stomach. I was barely showing last time I visited so this time it was pretty clear even to Matthew that I had a bun in the oven. He came up and touched my belly and said he wanted to see the baby. We told him it was too early to see the baby. Well! That did not go over well. He repeated that he wanted me to "push the baby out" so he could see it. When we told him that was not possible he cried and went over to his mom.
I'm down to 65 days of work! Woo-hoo. I realized today that I'm ready to be done with my job because I'm ready to be done with the drama. Hm, I feel like singing a little Mary J. Blige right now; at least I think she is the one who sings the "No More Drama" song. My office shares a space with another company - owned by the same person but they are two separate companies and we have an apartment above that is on the same utility meter as us. Billing is a bit sticky with the one company piggy-backing on our phones, internet and some office supplies and the tenant (who power washes everything - he's a power washer by day and a midnight toker by, well, night) upstairs. Every month it is a sore spot for our accountant because our company is taking a hit financially by giving the other two great rates on their utility/phone/whatever at an expense to us. I can see her gripe since our company profit shares. The more money we save on bills the more money we have to give back to the agents who help make us successful. But after 2 years of dealing with it - I'm done.
I'm currently doing my part to make the other company get their own phone lines - because I get far too many calls (our number shows up on their outbound caller id) from their rude customers who, after calling me say, "You called me?" in an angry tone. It's so hard to remain polite when they start out like such jerks. I want to say, "No, jackass, you called me." That wouldn't go over so well. The way our organization is set up the owner doesn't necessarily run the company - there are 3 owners (2 majority and one who makes the decisions). So all we have to do is convince the one who makes the decisions to see things our way - which has been going well thus far - and the problems will become a thing of the past.
Jackass is my new favorite word. Sorry, Mom. It is just the right name to call someone when they cut you off or change lanes right in front of you without using their turn signal or when they make a left hand turn without getting into the turn lane. Ah, Seattle is a great city but I'm turning into the wicked witch of the west behind the wheel. I told my bible study girls the other day that I'm a much more relaxed driver when I listen to classical music. Apparently its been a while since I've tried that because that is no longer the case. I think I need to try and view obnoxious drivers I encounter multiple times a day as myself. I'm not a bad driver - I'm aggressive. At least that is what I tell myself.
As my pregnancy goes on and the baby moves more my tolerance for bad driving is shrinking. How dare someone almost run me and my unborn child off the road? Before bad driving gave me an excuse to yell at strangers while stuck in traffic - now bad driving is bringing out maternal instincts. I'll probably get one of those 'Baby on Board' decals for the car that I used to make fun of. Who really drives more carefully because of those? Parents, that's who. Teenagers and 20-somethings could care less. Well, so could 80 year olds. Seriously? Old people should have a mandatory drivers test every year in the boat that they wield all over town on a daily basis. Their score should be divided into thirds: parking (front in and parallel), turning left and right at two different intersections and the ever-on turn signal (they must turn their turn signal off within one-eighth of a mile of the lane change/turn). A passing score is 80%. Yes, I know the only possible scores are 33%, 66% and 100%; that's the beauty of my scoring system. : )
I'm really not looking forward to labor but who does? I am well aware that women have been giving birth for thousands of years (and lots of them were dying during childbirth but people don't bring that up). I know. This is the first time I've given birth. Besides, if a cave woman were given the opportunity to have an epidural do you really think she would turn it down? I think not. I tell everyone I'm going in to the hospital with a bulls eye on my back for the anesthesiologist. : ) I would really like to not experience a great deal of pain.
Last weekend I was in Vancouver for Crina's shower and for Father's Day. On Sunday we had a family dinner with my brother and his family. My nephew, Matthew, 3 years old, is fascinated by pregnant bellies. I wonder what is going on inside his head when we tell him I have a baby in my stomach. I was barely showing last time I visited so this time it was pretty clear even to Matthew that I had a bun in the oven. He came up and touched my belly and said he wanted to see the baby. We told him it was too early to see the baby. Well! That did not go over well. He repeated that he wanted me to "push the baby out" so he could see it. When we told him that was not possible he cried and went over to his mom.
I'm down to 65 days of work! Woo-hoo. I realized today that I'm ready to be done with my job because I'm ready to be done with the drama. Hm, I feel like singing a little Mary J. Blige right now; at least I think she is the one who sings the "No More Drama" song. My office shares a space with another company - owned by the same person but they are two separate companies and we have an apartment above that is on the same utility meter as us. Billing is a bit sticky with the one company piggy-backing on our phones, internet and some office supplies and the tenant (who power washes everything - he's a power washer by day and a midnight toker by, well, night) upstairs. Every month it is a sore spot for our accountant because our company is taking a hit financially by giving the other two great rates on their utility/phone/whatever at an expense to us. I can see her gripe since our company profit shares. The more money we save on bills the more money we have to give back to the agents who help make us successful. But after 2 years of dealing with it - I'm done.
I'm currently doing my part to make the other company get their own phone lines - because I get far too many calls (our number shows up on their outbound caller id) from their rude customers who, after calling me say, "You called me?" in an angry tone. It's so hard to remain polite when they start out like such jerks. I want to say, "No, jackass, you called me." That wouldn't go over so well. The way our organization is set up the owner doesn't necessarily run the company - there are 3 owners (2 majority and one who makes the decisions). So all we have to do is convince the one who makes the decisions to see things our way - which has been going well thus far - and the problems will become a thing of the past.
Jackass is my new favorite word. Sorry, Mom. It is just the right name to call someone when they cut you off or change lanes right in front of you without using their turn signal or when they make a left hand turn without getting into the turn lane. Ah, Seattle is a great city but I'm turning into the wicked witch of the west behind the wheel. I told my bible study girls the other day that I'm a much more relaxed driver when I listen to classical music. Apparently its been a while since I've tried that because that is no longer the case. I think I need to try and view obnoxious drivers I encounter multiple times a day as myself. I'm not a bad driver - I'm aggressive. At least that is what I tell myself.
As my pregnancy goes on and the baby moves more my tolerance for bad driving is shrinking. How dare someone almost run me and my unborn child off the road? Before bad driving gave me an excuse to yell at strangers while stuck in traffic - now bad driving is bringing out maternal instincts. I'll probably get one of those 'Baby on Board' decals for the car that I used to make fun of. Who really drives more carefully because of those? Parents, that's who. Teenagers and 20-somethings could care less. Well, so could 80 year olds. Seriously? Old people should have a mandatory drivers test every year in the boat that they wield all over town on a daily basis. Their score should be divided into thirds: parking (front in and parallel), turning left and right at two different intersections and the ever-on turn signal (they must turn their turn signal off within one-eighth of a mile of the lane change/turn). A passing score is 80%. Yes, I know the only possible scores are 33%, 66% and 100%; that's the beauty of my scoring system. : )
Wednesday, June 20, 2007
The naming of Jermaine
Now that we know the baby is a boy we can start thinking of names. I've compiled a list of names I like or of ones that have piqued my interest. Some may seem a little out there - hopefully none of them are vanilla. I put them in alphabetical order so as to keep my preferences out of y'alls opinions. Please give me honest feedback on the names - just ones that you have a strong reaction to - positive or negative- unless it is related to a playground bully - weird nicknames or initial thoughts would be great. Someone told me the other day that the nickname for Oliver is Ollie and that name came off the list very, very quickly. So your input is valued.
Charles
Elijah
Gabriel
Gavin
Henry
Isaac
Isaiah
Keaton
Kennedy
Liam
Luke
Nolan
Quinn
Sawyer
Tavish
Wilson
Charles
Elijah
Gabriel
Gavin
Henry
Isaac
Isaiah
Keaton
Kennedy
Liam
Luke
Nolan
Quinn
Sawyer
Tavish
Wilson
Tuesday, June 19, 2007
bits and pieces
I've made two posts about dreams and I'll spare you more long drawn out dreams but will instead give you a long drawn out post with just snippets of dreams.
1. Ryan and I are vacationing/living in a bland condo in Mexico near the beach in a big city. Ryan found a shopping cart he really liked. The cart was like the new ones that have two small stacked baskets instead of one really big basket but it only had the bottom basket. He wheeled it around and took it home with us to the condo. Then Steph, the in house loan officer at my office, joined us at our condo. From there we departed to a fabled beach/cliff where gay men pushed their wives off cliffs because they wanted to be single. (Don't read anything into that).
2. Ryan and I are staying at a hotel downtown near the pier. We hear that there is going to be a street concert by Maroon 5 in front of the hotel so we scope out a good place in the hotel to view it from. Oddly enough we are the only one in the hotel who knows about it because it is just the two of us watching from a great perch. The lead singer sees me and walks over to me (whatever wall was holding up one side of the hotel is now gone because he walked right up to me from the outside while I'm clearly inside). Commentary: don't know where that one came from. I saw Maroon 5 do a set on a show during the American Idol finale a couple of weeks ago but that's it. I thought the lead singer was gangly and cocky and 'danced' funny. Eh.
3. This dream was part of the above dream but how is beyond me. Our laundry room - which was not at all like our laundry room at home- was over run by super cute furry little creatures that I called possums but were not possums. They were soft like a rabbit and the size of a big hamster. They were in all of the clean clothes in the dryer, in the dirty clothes on the floor (that part is like my laundry room at home. April = sloth). They were lounging all around the place. We just picked them up and tossed them out of the way.
4. Last night's dream took a turn for the dark side. I'll explain where it came from later. In my dream I witnessed a crime and was being threatened by the criminal to not testify against him in court. I don't remember what the crime was but apparently it was enough to put the criminal in prison. People were following me from home to work and it just kept replaying over and over again. In some versions nothing happened and in other versions they shot me. So I wake up because someone is shooting at me... seems like the natural thing to do to make the bad dreams go away but NO! I wake up and the dream continues. So I get out of bed, I have to get up anyone - you know to make my 3rd or 10th trip to the potty - and the *#&$(#@* dream continues. Oh, yeah. Where this dream came from: a couple of months ago some Bellevue detectives came to my office looking for a guy who was wanted for stealing cars - some sort of fugitive. Well, the detectives came back in a couple of weeks ago because he was back in the area and was supposedly hanging out with the guy who lives in the apartments above my office. So yesterday as I'm leaving the office I see the tenant in a car with a guy I think kind of looks like the guy the cops showed me a picture of several months before. So I jotted down the license plate information and go back in the office and found the cop's business card and called him. That's all. It probably wasn't the guy but since I thought that might be the guy I saw in a fuzzy picture 3 months ago I should probably call.
5. Who knows what tonight brings? I would much rather it be weird than scary.
Happy dreams!
1. Ryan and I are vacationing/living in a bland condo in Mexico near the beach in a big city. Ryan found a shopping cart he really liked. The cart was like the new ones that have two small stacked baskets instead of one really big basket but it only had the bottom basket. He wheeled it around and took it home with us to the condo. Then Steph, the in house loan officer at my office, joined us at our condo. From there we departed to a fabled beach/cliff where gay men pushed their wives off cliffs because they wanted to be single. (Don't read anything into that).
2. Ryan and I are staying at a hotel downtown near the pier. We hear that there is going to be a street concert by Maroon 5 in front of the hotel so we scope out a good place in the hotel to view it from. Oddly enough we are the only one in the hotel who knows about it because it is just the two of us watching from a great perch. The lead singer sees me and walks over to me (whatever wall was holding up one side of the hotel is now gone because he walked right up to me from the outside while I'm clearly inside). Commentary: don't know where that one came from. I saw Maroon 5 do a set on a show during the American Idol finale a couple of weeks ago but that's it. I thought the lead singer was gangly and cocky and 'danced' funny. Eh.
3. This dream was part of the above dream but how is beyond me. Our laundry room - which was not at all like our laundry room at home- was over run by super cute furry little creatures that I called possums but were not possums. They were soft like a rabbit and the size of a big hamster. They were in all of the clean clothes in the dryer, in the dirty clothes on the floor (that part is like my laundry room at home. April = sloth). They were lounging all around the place. We just picked them up and tossed them out of the way.
4. Last night's dream took a turn for the dark side. I'll explain where it came from later. In my dream I witnessed a crime and was being threatened by the criminal to not testify against him in court. I don't remember what the crime was but apparently it was enough to put the criminal in prison. People were following me from home to work and it just kept replaying over and over again. In some versions nothing happened and in other versions they shot me. So I wake up because someone is shooting at me... seems like the natural thing to do to make the bad dreams go away but NO! I wake up and the dream continues. So I get out of bed, I have to get up anyone - you know to make my 3rd or 10th trip to the potty - and the *#&$(#@* dream continues. Oh, yeah. Where this dream came from: a couple of months ago some Bellevue detectives came to my office looking for a guy who was wanted for stealing cars - some sort of fugitive. Well, the detectives came back in a couple of weeks ago because he was back in the area and was supposedly hanging out with the guy who lives in the apartments above my office. So yesterday as I'm leaving the office I see the tenant in a car with a guy I think kind of looks like the guy the cops showed me a picture of several months before. So I jotted down the license plate information and go back in the office and found the cop's business card and called him. That's all. It probably wasn't the guy but since I thought that might be the guy I saw in a fuzzy picture 3 months ago I should probably call.
5. Who knows what tonight brings? I would much rather it be weird than scary.
Happy dreams!
Friday, June 15, 2007
The Sex of Jermaine
I was a useless lump at work on Thursday. All I could think about was the ultrasound we were going to have at 8 am the following day. Sleep was fitful but that's kind of normal right now. Baby + uterus = compact bladder. Nuff said.
We decided to get to Seattle Ultrasound a little early since the appointment time is more of a suggested arriving time. Last time we had to wait a while to be seen. This time we were seen in less than 10 minutes of checking in. Our ultrasonographer's name was April, too.
Short story even shorter because I'm now at my mom's house on dial up and we have to go get a Father's Day present for my dad before we go to Crina's shower.....
Jermaine is a boy!!!
We decided to get to Seattle Ultrasound a little early since the appointment time is more of a suggested arriving time. Last time we had to wait a while to be seen. This time we were seen in less than 10 minutes of checking in. Our ultrasonographer's name was April, too.
Short story even shorter because I'm now at my mom's house on dial up and we have to go get a Father's Day present for my dad before we go to Crina's shower.....
Jermaine is a boy!!!
Wednesday, June 13, 2007
The art of counting
I talked to Ryan and decided my last day of work is going to be October 5th; exactly one month before my due date. Initially I asked Ryan when he thought would be an acceptable time for me to quit and he said that was not his decision to make. I let him know I would leave now if it were permissible. He laughed then agreed one month early is just fine.
I was so antsy to have my final day written in stone because I wanted to start a count down on my calendar that I stare at all day long at work. I made three separate counts. Month, week and day. There are 3.5 months left, 16 weeks and 76 days. The months and weeks are of actual time that will have to elapse until I leave. The day count however is just work days. That means weekends, holidays (Independence Day & Labor Day) and vacation are not included.
My friend Jenn became a little annoyed with my artful counting system when I didn't give her the manual for April countdowns. I kept telling her the ultrasound, where we find out the sex of the baby, was in 2 weeks. Well, 2 weeks in a countdown to something as exciting as finding out what we are having calls for my special counting method to soothe my impatient self.
Here is what I learned as a 5 year old when counting down the days to Christmas and all the glory Christmas entails:
1. Never count the day you are in - even if it is 5 a.m. It doesn't count.
2. Never count the day of the holiday. What's the point?
3. As the day draws closer the count down excludes Christmas Eve - which is another great day in and of itself.
4. When you are about a week out you don't count the following day to the one you are currently in.
I know, it's five year old logic but hey, it works for me. Now I could care less about Christmas presents, now I just love spending time with my family and eating all of the black olives and pickles from the relish tray. Although these days I have to share the salty treats with my niece and nephew. They are SO lucky I'm such a kind, benevolent auntie that I bestow upon them the privilege of eating from the relish tray. I must allow the little ones to carry on the tradition of olive fingers as lo, my fingers do cause the olives to split in half.
Since we are so far out in the count down we are also able to shave off the week we are in and the last week of the count down. So that leaves me with 14 weeks. Fourteen sounds like so much less than Sixteen, don't ya say?
Last Friday Ryan and I ate dinner at Red Robin on the waterfront. I feel like such a tourist when I go down there. One of the shops had scrubs with the names of doctors from Grey's Anatomy stitched on the front. I thought that was really funny. Who is going to buy those? Grey's Anatomy isn't actually filmed in Seattle. Lame. If you are one who would like to own a pair of scrubs with a pretend doctors name stitched on them, I'm sorry. Really. Just hide them when I come over so I don't have to tease you.
There isn't really any point in me telling you where we ate as it was what happened afterwards that is so funny.
We were walking back to the car - which we totally scored on free off street parking, by the way. Oh, that reminds me. It's time for PSA (public service announcement).
If you are out of town visiting the big city - listen up Tennessee, or was it Kentucky or Pennsylvania? Anyway. After an exciting day of touring Seattle, watching fish fly, going to the top of the space needle, maybe even a ferry ride and it is time to get in your car and go back to the hotel, airport, cruise terminal etc. and you hop in your car - do NOT put your key in the ignition until you are ready to leave the parking space. See, when you put your key in the ignition and you are parked on a small hill you will want to put your foot on the brake which illuminates the break light which signals other drivers you are leaving. IF you do decide to put your key in the ignition - check your rear view mirror to see if anyone is waiting for your coveted space - or take your foot off the break. Also, word to those who do not have to practice their parallel parking skills often - slow, smooth movements are preferable to lurching forward and backward, slamming on your brakes after not cranking your wheel enough.
Back to the other story. On our walk back to the car parked in a free spot I looked down at my ever expanding belly and said something to the baby. I said, "What do you think about that, little what's your name?" Ryan heard, "What do you think about that little Jermaine." Sure I come up with new names quite often but Jermaine? I laughed so hard - then told him what I said - then he laughed with me. We had not yet come up with a name for the baby. Everyone else calls theirs peanut or pumpkin that I didn't want to follow suit. Now, we have a name for the baby until it gets here. So from here on out if you see a post or comment on Jermaine you know I'm writing about the baby.
Argh! Bob is driving me nuts!!! She keeps trying to break through the locked cat door in the kitchen (that leads to the basement). I know she is not that dumb. It's locked, Bob! No matter how many times you ram it with your your cute little head it is going to stay locked! I had to give the cats a bath last week. Yes, I used cats and bath in the same sentence. Bob & Gwen are long haired cats. You figure out why they needed a bath. In order for them to stay clean we had to keep them out of the sawdust in the basement until they dried. I was going to unlock the cat door last night but Ryan reminded me the furnace people are coming tomorrow and the cats will need to be upstairs anyway. Poor Bobbi. She freaked me out the other night when it was just me in the house - Ryan was in Yakima for a conference. Bob chose to try and break into the downstairs when I went to bed. I hear is something rattling the kitchen door. I know it's not someone trying to break into the house that managed to get in through the highly secured basement - but you never know. Did I forget to lock one of three exterior doors? Did Ryan leave a window open? I figured it was Bob after she started grunting and whining.
I was so antsy to have my final day written in stone because I wanted to start a count down on my calendar that I stare at all day long at work. I made three separate counts. Month, week and day. There are 3.5 months left, 16 weeks and 76 days. The months and weeks are of actual time that will have to elapse until I leave. The day count however is just work days. That means weekends, holidays (Independence Day & Labor Day) and vacation are not included.
My friend Jenn became a little annoyed with my artful counting system when I didn't give her the manual for April countdowns. I kept telling her the ultrasound, where we find out the sex of the baby, was in 2 weeks. Well, 2 weeks in a countdown to something as exciting as finding out what we are having calls for my special counting method to soothe my impatient self.
Here is what I learned as a 5 year old when counting down the days to Christmas and all the glory Christmas entails:
1. Never count the day you are in - even if it is 5 a.m. It doesn't count.
2. Never count the day of the holiday. What's the point?
3. As the day draws closer the count down excludes Christmas Eve - which is another great day in and of itself.
4. When you are about a week out you don't count the following day to the one you are currently in.
I know, it's five year old logic but hey, it works for me. Now I could care less about Christmas presents, now I just love spending time with my family and eating all of the black olives and pickles from the relish tray. Although these days I have to share the salty treats with my niece and nephew. They are SO lucky I'm such a kind, benevolent auntie that I bestow upon them the privilege of eating from the relish tray. I must allow the little ones to carry on the tradition of olive fingers as lo, my fingers do cause the olives to split in half.
Since we are so far out in the count down we are also able to shave off the week we are in and the last week of the count down. So that leaves me with 14 weeks. Fourteen sounds like so much less than Sixteen, don't ya say?
Last Friday Ryan and I ate dinner at Red Robin on the waterfront. I feel like such a tourist when I go down there. One of the shops had scrubs with the names of doctors from Grey's Anatomy stitched on the front. I thought that was really funny. Who is going to buy those? Grey's Anatomy isn't actually filmed in Seattle. Lame. If you are one who would like to own a pair of scrubs with a pretend doctors name stitched on them, I'm sorry. Really. Just hide them when I come over so I don't have to tease you.
There isn't really any point in me telling you where we ate as it was what happened afterwards that is so funny.
We were walking back to the car - which we totally scored on free off street parking, by the way. Oh, that reminds me. It's time for PSA (public service announcement).
If you are out of town visiting the big city - listen up Tennessee, or was it Kentucky or Pennsylvania? Anyway. After an exciting day of touring Seattle, watching fish fly, going to the top of the space needle, maybe even a ferry ride and it is time to get in your car and go back to the hotel, airport, cruise terminal etc. and you hop in your car - do NOT put your key in the ignition until you are ready to leave the parking space. See, when you put your key in the ignition and you are parked on a small hill you will want to put your foot on the brake which illuminates the break light which signals other drivers you are leaving. IF you do decide to put your key in the ignition - check your rear view mirror to see if anyone is waiting for your coveted space - or take your foot off the break. Also, word to those who do not have to practice their parallel parking skills often - slow, smooth movements are preferable to lurching forward and backward, slamming on your brakes after not cranking your wheel enough.
Back to the other story. On our walk back to the car parked in a free spot I looked down at my ever expanding belly and said something to the baby. I said, "What do you think about that, little what's your name?" Ryan heard, "What do you think about that little Jermaine." Sure I come up with new names quite often but Jermaine? I laughed so hard - then told him what I said - then he laughed with me. We had not yet come up with a name for the baby. Everyone else calls theirs peanut or pumpkin that I didn't want to follow suit. Now, we have a name for the baby until it gets here. So from here on out if you see a post or comment on Jermaine you know I'm writing about the baby.
Argh! Bob is driving me nuts!!! She keeps trying to break through the locked cat door in the kitchen (that leads to the basement). I know she is not that dumb. It's locked, Bob! No matter how many times you ram it with your your cute little head it is going to stay locked! I had to give the cats a bath last week. Yes, I used cats and bath in the same sentence. Bob & Gwen are long haired cats. You figure out why they needed a bath. In order for them to stay clean we had to keep them out of the sawdust in the basement until they dried. I was going to unlock the cat door last night but Ryan reminded me the furnace people are coming tomorrow and the cats will need to be upstairs anyway. Poor Bobbi. She freaked me out the other night when it was just me in the house - Ryan was in Yakima for a conference. Bob chose to try and break into the downstairs when I went to bed. I hear is something rattling the kitchen door. I know it's not someone trying to break into the house that managed to get in through the highly secured basement - but you never know. Did I forget to lock one of three exterior doors? Did Ryan leave a window open? I figured it was Bob after she started grunting and whining.
Monday, June 04, 2007
Mexican Cantina & Optic Nerves
I woke up around 6:30 this morning from a very vivid, very bizarre dream. The alligator dream doesn't come close to this one. As I told Ryan this morning the dream not only takes the cake for wierdest dream I've ever had - it made the cake then baked the cake before it took the cake.
Here is what I wrote down this morning while it was fresh in my head.
My friend Jenn invited me to go to dinner with her at this place she really liked in South Park (almost an up & coming area of South Seattle) so I met up with her at her at her employer's house, Mike and Haley, for whom she is a nanny. Jenn and Haley were out of sorts and the boys, Everett and Alex, were not at the house – odd because they were not with either parent or the nanny. Jenn and Haley are talking about Mike who is not home. It turns out Mike is a serial killer but he only kills female family members and hides the bodies somewhere and stacks them all together. I don't think this is news to Jenn or Haley but it is certainly news to me. Everyone thought it would be a good idea for us to leave before Mike came home so we wouldn’t slip and let on that we knew. Haley wasn’t going to join us for dinner for some reason.
Standing in the kitchen we heard tires in the drive so Jenn and I ran out the back door to Mike’s other car that was in the back with Haley’s car; they let Jenn use their vehicles and tonight was no exception. Jenn unlocked the car and we jumped in just before he pulled around the corner. Mike pulled up next to us on the passenger side and Jenn unrolled my window to say bye to Mike and to thank him for letting us use his car.
Our drive from Olympia, where Mike and Haley live, to the dive we ate at in South Park must have been uneventful because it wasn’t part and parcel with the rest of the weirdness. (I don't know why I went from Seattle to Olympia to meet Jenn just to go back to Seattle for dinner).
Jenn parked Mike's car in a sketchy neighborhood that you could see was on its way up. People were making improvements to their homes and yards. That made me feel a little safer. Unfortunately we had to leave the quasi safety of that neighborhood and cross a road that may as well have been the proverbial tracks to the "other side".
It was like a movie: Jen and I standing on the side of road looking across at the restaurant she wanted me to try. By that time it was dark out and the dive was dimly lit. More sketchiness was to be had in the form of pedestrians walking by and hassling us.
We made it safely into the restaurant which was busy. The floors were dirt and sloped and the furniture was cheap lawn furniture - like the ugly plastic chairs we have in our own back yard. It was like we were in a Mexican Cantina – although in Mexico they would at least have concrete floors that are level.
Jenn sees a friend we are meeting – unbeknownst to me – who is sitting there waiting for us. The friend is enjoying a cigarette and there was another woman – another friend of Jenn’s – who tells smoking lady that I’m pregnant so the woman politely put out her cigarette on the dirt floor.
We eat a delicious meal which I was not at all afraid to eat, oddly enough. The place was empty by the time we were done; not even an employee was left in the building. Jenn pulled out Mike’s car keys and was playing with them - she was testing the car alarm function and discovered that the alarm was broken. She pushed a button that normally made a sound regardless of the distance from the car. I thought it would be wise if we grabbed some umbrellas in the lost and found near the door. They were the really long ones with metal tips. Who knew Seattleites can’t hold onto an umbrella at a small Mexican cantina?
Our route back to the car looked nothing like the way we went in. We had to climb a huge set of stairs that you find all over Seattle neighborhoods that give easy access through a hilly neighborhood. I noticed someone in the shadows trying to hide on the side of the stairs, pressed back into the shrubs and blackberries. I think he had a dog with him, too. It was the dog that gave him away.
By this time I have Kea, my yellow lab, with me. She is, of course, excited to see another dog. Maybe she gave it away that someone was up there. I don’t remember who yelled at who first – I think I yelled at the shadowy figure. Sure we probably could have gone around and not used the stairs or used a cell phone to call a cab or the police to find the shadowy figure but no - the dream must go on. I tell the shadowy man we are armed and that he should leave us alone.
Shadowy figure then steps out to become slightly less shadowy under a street light. He calls me by name. He knows me? Do I know him? He sounded disappointed and a little angry with me. For those of you who watch the TV show Lost he is the guy that kidnaps Kate and holds her at gunpoint in the jungle and tells Jack, Sawyer and Sayid that there is a line here that they should not cross.
Somehow he gets me and throws me in the ocean. The dream does not end here. Here is where it gets weird. Shadowy figure man raised me – in the ocean. This all slowly comes back to me as I swim around under the water and don’t drown or die from hypothermia.
The rest of the dream must be a flashback to my time before I left life unda da sea…
I recall swimming under a small boat – like a row boat. I think they caught me and that was how I was taken from the ocean. Maybe my first step in coming to terms with where I was and who I was, was remembering how I was taken from my ‘home’ in the first place.
Next I was in some sort of school. It looked like normal school but it was under water of course. In science class there was a boy I had a crush on who obviously liked me too because he made some presents for me… optic nerves and eyeballs. First he showed me the optic nerves he made for me then the eyeballs. I said, “This is the most romantic thing anyone has ever done for me!” Odd. I was looking at the optic nerves and the eyeballs because I already had my own set. Still, I used his nerves and eyeballs.
With my new optic nerves and eyeballs we went to the movies. In the dream I am watching it in third person if that makes sense. I was in the theater with my boy crush-nerve-eyeball-making-friend and a bunch of other classmates and you see the approach to the theater – kind of Finding Nemo style. It was dark ‘outside’ of the theater and you could see the pulsating, glowing light from the screen. It was a rocky cave and with the light coming out of the theater; you could see the marine plant life moving with the current. The movie was a Johnny Dep flick for those of you interested, I think it was Finding Neverland.
Then I woke up. That was the end of the dream.
I would really like to know how my subconsicous pieced that one together. Really. I can put a few pieces fo the puzzle together.
Jenn - I was thinking about her at work the other day
Mexican Cantina - Pregnant food craving, perhaps? I did have a delicious Taco Time burrito today for lunch.
Nerves & Eyeballs - My friend Nicole and her husband Matt are optometrists who write a killer blog that I check every day in hopes that they posted yet another great essay on... anything, Jelly Tots or Oppression in Palestine.
Johnny Dep - Ryan and I watched a show that is looking for the best look alikes and one person looked just like Johnny Dep as Captain Jack Sparrow - am I nuts that I think he's hot as Captain Sparrow? (I can say this, Ryan told me the other day he thought the checker at the Red Apple Market was really cute). Even Steven.
Living in the ocean - I dream of swimming under water like most people dream about flying.
What I would like to know is how my subconscious wove it all together.
Here is what I wrote down this morning while it was fresh in my head.
My friend Jenn invited me to go to dinner with her at this place she really liked in South Park (almost an up & coming area of South Seattle) so I met up with her at her at her employer's house, Mike and Haley, for whom she is a nanny. Jenn and Haley were out of sorts and the boys, Everett and Alex, were not at the house – odd because they were not with either parent or the nanny. Jenn and Haley are talking about Mike who is not home. It turns out Mike is a serial killer but he only kills female family members and hides the bodies somewhere and stacks them all together. I don't think this is news to Jenn or Haley but it is certainly news to me. Everyone thought it would be a good idea for us to leave before Mike came home so we wouldn’t slip and let on that we knew. Haley wasn’t going to join us for dinner for some reason.
Standing in the kitchen we heard tires in the drive so Jenn and I ran out the back door to Mike’s other car that was in the back with Haley’s car; they let Jenn use their vehicles and tonight was no exception. Jenn unlocked the car and we jumped in just before he pulled around the corner. Mike pulled up next to us on the passenger side and Jenn unrolled my window to say bye to Mike and to thank him for letting us use his car.
Our drive from Olympia, where Mike and Haley live, to the dive we ate at in South Park must have been uneventful because it wasn’t part and parcel with the rest of the weirdness. (I don't know why I went from Seattle to Olympia to meet Jenn just to go back to Seattle for dinner).
Jenn parked Mike's car in a sketchy neighborhood that you could see was on its way up. People were making improvements to their homes and yards. That made me feel a little safer. Unfortunately we had to leave the quasi safety of that neighborhood and cross a road that may as well have been the proverbial tracks to the "other side".
It was like a movie: Jen and I standing on the side of road looking across at the restaurant she wanted me to try. By that time it was dark out and the dive was dimly lit. More sketchiness was to be had in the form of pedestrians walking by and hassling us.
We made it safely into the restaurant which was busy. The floors were dirt and sloped and the furniture was cheap lawn furniture - like the ugly plastic chairs we have in our own back yard. It was like we were in a Mexican Cantina – although in Mexico they would at least have concrete floors that are level.
Jenn sees a friend we are meeting – unbeknownst to me – who is sitting there waiting for us. The friend is enjoying a cigarette and there was another woman – another friend of Jenn’s – who tells smoking lady that I’m pregnant so the woman politely put out her cigarette on the dirt floor.
We eat a delicious meal which I was not at all afraid to eat, oddly enough. The place was empty by the time we were done; not even an employee was left in the building. Jenn pulled out Mike’s car keys and was playing with them - she was testing the car alarm function and discovered that the alarm was broken. She pushed a button that normally made a sound regardless of the distance from the car. I thought it would be wise if we grabbed some umbrellas in the lost and found near the door. They were the really long ones with metal tips. Who knew Seattleites can’t hold onto an umbrella at a small Mexican cantina?
Our route back to the car looked nothing like the way we went in. We had to climb a huge set of stairs that you find all over Seattle neighborhoods that give easy access through a hilly neighborhood. I noticed someone in the shadows trying to hide on the side of the stairs, pressed back into the shrubs and blackberries. I think he had a dog with him, too. It was the dog that gave him away.
By this time I have Kea, my yellow lab, with me. She is, of course, excited to see another dog. Maybe she gave it away that someone was up there. I don’t remember who yelled at who first – I think I yelled at the shadowy figure. Sure we probably could have gone around and not used the stairs or used a cell phone to call a cab or the police to find the shadowy figure but no - the dream must go on. I tell the shadowy man we are armed and that he should leave us alone.
Shadowy figure then steps out to become slightly less shadowy under a street light. He calls me by name. He knows me? Do I know him? He sounded disappointed and a little angry with me. For those of you who watch the TV show Lost he is the guy that kidnaps Kate and holds her at gunpoint in the jungle and tells Jack, Sawyer and Sayid that there is a line here that they should not cross.
Somehow he gets me and throws me in the ocean. The dream does not end here. Here is where it gets weird. Shadowy figure man raised me – in the ocean. This all slowly comes back to me as I swim around under the water and don’t drown or die from hypothermia.
The rest of the dream must be a flashback to my time before I left life unda da sea…
I recall swimming under a small boat – like a row boat. I think they caught me and that was how I was taken from the ocean. Maybe my first step in coming to terms with where I was and who I was, was remembering how I was taken from my ‘home’ in the first place.
Next I was in some sort of school. It looked like normal school but it was under water of course. In science class there was a boy I had a crush on who obviously liked me too because he made some presents for me… optic nerves and eyeballs. First he showed me the optic nerves he made for me then the eyeballs. I said, “This is the most romantic thing anyone has ever done for me!” Odd. I was looking at the optic nerves and the eyeballs because I already had my own set. Still, I used his nerves and eyeballs.
With my new optic nerves and eyeballs we went to the movies. In the dream I am watching it in third person if that makes sense. I was in the theater with my boy crush-nerve-eyeball-making-friend and a bunch of other classmates and you see the approach to the theater – kind of Finding Nemo style. It was dark ‘outside’ of the theater and you could see the pulsating, glowing light from the screen. It was a rocky cave and with the light coming out of the theater; you could see the marine plant life moving with the current. The movie was a Johnny Dep flick for those of you interested, I think it was Finding Neverland.
Then I woke up. That was the end of the dream.
I would really like to know how my subconsicous pieced that one together. Really. I can put a few pieces fo the puzzle together.
Jenn - I was thinking about her at work the other day
Mexican Cantina - Pregnant food craving, perhaps? I did have a delicious Taco Time burrito today for lunch.
Nerves & Eyeballs - My friend Nicole and her husband Matt are optometrists who write a killer blog that I check every day in hopes that they posted yet another great essay on... anything, Jelly Tots or Oppression in Palestine.
Johnny Dep - Ryan and I watched a show that is looking for the best look alikes and one person looked just like Johnny Dep as Captain Jack Sparrow - am I nuts that I think he's hot as Captain Sparrow? (I can say this, Ryan told me the other day he thought the checker at the Red Apple Market was really cute). Even Steven.
Living in the ocean - I dream of swimming under water like most people dream about flying.
What I would like to know is how my subconscious wove it all together.
Saturday, May 05, 2007
To Kill an Alligator
In my last post I mentioned I had a bizarre dream. For me to have an odd dream is nothing odd. I've had the Marshmallow Man chase me, seen a mob chase a cartoon superman and swam under water with my family while harvesting rice. So, taking all of that into consideration this dream really isn't that odd.
I have been watching the TV show Jericho - a show that portrays a small town America that has survived a wide scale nuclear attack in all major cities across the US. That TV show plus reading the blog my friends write who chronicle the events that are happening in Palestine where they are living created the following dream. If I could only create the fuzzy wavy lines like they do in TV shows to show the transition into a dream....
My family was on vacation in Florida which is kind of odd because we don't vacation together, especially on the other coast. While on vacation there were attacks carried out on the US. My family was stranded in a now hostile environment. Everyone was looking out for his best interest and helping tourists was not in their best interest. We had to be careful because my brothers were targets of the enemy and also sought out to be recruited as soldiers for 'our' side - even though I wasn't sure who the enemy was or who was on our side.
Our one goal was to get back home and since home was on the West Coast that goal was going to be very hard to accomplish. We had to prepare for our long and treacherous journey home so we started by obtaining food, namely protein. The only source of protein we could find in Florida was from alligators. My family is not the alligator wrestling type so we had to be pretty creative in capturing the deadly beasts. One of my brothers and I were in a tree trying to lasso the snout of an alligator; we made a slip knot and somehow managed to get it around the gator's snout. The more it struggled the tighter the knot became - so much that my brother was able to drag it closer to the tree. Once it was close enough someone from the tree would jump down and quickly hit writhing animal with a rock or took a swing with an axe (don't ask me where we managed to find an axe). We had to be fast because even being hit by the tail of the alligator could inflict serious harm. I don't know how many gators we killed but we managed to dry the meat and save enough for our long and dangerous trek home.
The walk home must have been uneventful because I only remember having a feeling of being on-guard on the walk home. The meat we ate from gators was enough for our trip. When we got to our house in Seattle there were squatters living in it. It was a dark cold place because there was no electricity. We couldn't get the squatters to leave because we were gone for so long (it isn't a quick journey on foot from one coast to the other when you have to stop and kill and cure your food source in a hostile land).
That's it. I woke up and thought about my friends living in a land that is occupied and invaded quite regularly and how I just watched a TV show about attacks on America.
Now it is 11 pm and we just watched the Illusionist. Ryan picked it out since I picked the last two and they were stinkers. We really enjoyed the Illusionist - we recommend watching it. We do not however recommend the highly acclaimed Little Miss Sunshine or Borat. I just did not get the humor in Little Miss Sunshine although my favorite character was Steve Carrel - the supposed crazy one of the whole bunch who actually seemed the most down to earth. Borat just made me cringe the entire time. It was painful to see how ignorant and hateful some people are when they think no one is looking or if they are talking to a sympathetic ear. Gag. Thank God for the fast forward button. That show was too much.
I have been watching the TV show Jericho - a show that portrays a small town America that has survived a wide scale nuclear attack in all major cities across the US. That TV show plus reading the blog my friends write who chronicle the events that are happening in Palestine where they are living created the following dream. If I could only create the fuzzy wavy lines like they do in TV shows to show the transition into a dream....
My family was on vacation in Florida which is kind of odd because we don't vacation together, especially on the other coast. While on vacation there were attacks carried out on the US. My family was stranded in a now hostile environment. Everyone was looking out for his best interest and helping tourists was not in their best interest. We had to be careful because my brothers were targets of the enemy and also sought out to be recruited as soldiers for 'our' side - even though I wasn't sure who the enemy was or who was on our side.
Our one goal was to get back home and since home was on the West Coast that goal was going to be very hard to accomplish. We had to prepare for our long and treacherous journey home so we started by obtaining food, namely protein. The only source of protein we could find in Florida was from alligators. My family is not the alligator wrestling type so we had to be pretty creative in capturing the deadly beasts. One of my brothers and I were in a tree trying to lasso the snout of an alligator; we made a slip knot and somehow managed to get it around the gator's snout. The more it struggled the tighter the knot became - so much that my brother was able to drag it closer to the tree. Once it was close enough someone from the tree would jump down and quickly hit writhing animal with a rock or took a swing with an axe (don't ask me where we managed to find an axe). We had to be fast because even being hit by the tail of the alligator could inflict serious harm. I don't know how many gators we killed but we managed to dry the meat and save enough for our long and dangerous trek home.
The walk home must have been uneventful because I only remember having a feeling of being on-guard on the walk home. The meat we ate from gators was enough for our trip. When we got to our house in Seattle there were squatters living in it. It was a dark cold place because there was no electricity. We couldn't get the squatters to leave because we were gone for so long (it isn't a quick journey on foot from one coast to the other when you have to stop and kill and cure your food source in a hostile land).
That's it. I woke up and thought about my friends living in a land that is occupied and invaded quite regularly and how I just watched a TV show about attacks on America.
Now it is 11 pm and we just watched the Illusionist. Ryan picked it out since I picked the last two and they were stinkers. We really enjoyed the Illusionist - we recommend watching it. We do not however recommend the highly acclaimed Little Miss Sunshine or Borat. I just did not get the humor in Little Miss Sunshine although my favorite character was Steve Carrel - the supposed crazy one of the whole bunch who actually seemed the most down to earth. Borat just made me cringe the entire time. It was painful to see how ignorant and hateful some people are when they think no one is looking or if they are talking to a sympathetic ear. Gag. Thank God for the fast forward button. That show was too much.
Monday, April 30, 2007
Drum roll please.....
It has been a while since I last posted anything and I have good reason, too. 1) I had news that was not ready to go public. 2) All other happenings paled in comparison to #1 and 3) All of the other said happenings could not be completely explained without divulging #1.
So, want to know what #1 is? Do you? You probably already know and if you didn't you are smart enough to have figured it out. What news, from a 30 year old female, married 5 years (almost), has to be announced at just the right time? Yep. I'm pregnant; 13 weeks today. Due November 5th. No, we don't know the sex of the baby as it is too early and yes we are going to find out the very first chance we are given because we are not the patient types. Well, I'm not patient and Ryan likes to plan.
If it's a girl Ryan will think of all the ways he can get her to play soccer and basketball - he seems to think if it's a girl she will not want to play sports. I am trying to tell him that he is just tempting fate with his poo-pooing of a girl's desire to play sports and talking up the natural desire for boys to play sports. If he doesn't watch it he's going to get a boy who doesn't like to get dirty and would rather bake snickerdoodle cookies with me than play a sport.
What other questions for the woman with a bun in the oven? I have not had morning sickness. There have been a few times when I felt mild waves of nausea but they were so mild that I had to stop and think, "Hmm, am I feeling queasy?" Hardly counts as morning sickness.
Instead of morning sickness I got an extra helping of tired. I heard that pregnant women were more tired than usual but this has been unreal. If I wake up at 7:30 in the morning I am ready for a nap by 9:30 - AM, as in 2 hours later. No joke. My productivity at work has taken a serious nose dive. I am good for the first half hour since I start work at 9:00. Then, out of nowhere, the pregnant fairy waves her fatigue wand and *poof* I'm exhausted. I perk up right before lunch then half way through I'm ready to sleep again - this time it lasts right up until I am ready to leave work for home and sometimes it lasts all evening. Last weekend I took 5 hours worth of naps on Saturday and on Sunday. And I was still tired.
I think the all day exhaustion is easing up a bit since it is 7:30 in the evening and I'm awake. Today I was only tired for about a quarter of the day. When I'm tired I get grumpy and cry at the drop of a hat. Fortunately I've only had to run off to the bathroom at work a couple of times to cry.
That's the big news. A couple of weeks ago - no make that about 2.5 months ago I was debating on whether or not I should leave my current job since I saw that I was going nowhere fast. There were promises to promote me as the company grew and the operations manager needed help but alas the company would not grow in the time frame everyone had set out in their business plan. I kept trudging along as the Agent Services Administrator (receptionist w/ a minor role as an office manager of sorts). Finally I could take it no more. There were major changes in management, which were for the better, but I didn't think I could work with the new proposed head honcho - who happens to be a terrific woman and great business woman but her style was too corporate for me.... Anyway... I decided it was time for me to jump ship. I interviewed with Redfin and was offered a job - it payed a little more and would have allowed me to take my dog to work (I told them they should meet my dog before making that kind of offer - Kea is a super freak of the wiggly sort). But the interviews came just days before I found out I was pregnant. I even told Redfin of 'my condition' and they still wanted to hire me knowing that I would only be there until November. There was even talk of me working from home - even a few hours after the baby was born if I so desired.
Not being one who likes change I decided that I should only go through one huge life change at a time. I really hope I made the right decision. I'm really not liking my job but that shouldn't be too surprising - being a receptionist is not the most exciting or fulfilling job out there.
That's all I have for now. I think my next post will be about my wierd dream that was, I believe, influenced by my friends living in Palestine and by the t.v. show Jericho (I'm a t.v. junkie).
So, want to know what #1 is? Do you? You probably already know and if you didn't you are smart enough to have figured it out. What news, from a 30 year old female, married 5 years (almost), has to be announced at just the right time? Yep. I'm pregnant; 13 weeks today. Due November 5th. No, we don't know the sex of the baby as it is too early and yes we are going to find out the very first chance we are given because we are not the patient types. Well, I'm not patient and Ryan likes to plan.
If it's a girl Ryan will think of all the ways he can get her to play soccer and basketball - he seems to think if it's a girl she will not want to play sports. I am trying to tell him that he is just tempting fate with his poo-pooing of a girl's desire to play sports and talking up the natural desire for boys to play sports. If he doesn't watch it he's going to get a boy who doesn't like to get dirty and would rather bake snickerdoodle cookies with me than play a sport.
What other questions for the woman with a bun in the oven? I have not had morning sickness. There have been a few times when I felt mild waves of nausea but they were so mild that I had to stop and think, "Hmm, am I feeling queasy?" Hardly counts as morning sickness.
Instead of morning sickness I got an extra helping of tired. I heard that pregnant women were more tired than usual but this has been unreal. If I wake up at 7:30 in the morning I am ready for a nap by 9:30 - AM, as in 2 hours later. No joke. My productivity at work has taken a serious nose dive. I am good for the first half hour since I start work at 9:00. Then, out of nowhere, the pregnant fairy waves her fatigue wand and *poof* I'm exhausted. I perk up right before lunch then half way through I'm ready to sleep again - this time it lasts right up until I am ready to leave work for home and sometimes it lasts all evening. Last weekend I took 5 hours worth of naps on Saturday and on Sunday. And I was still tired.
I think the all day exhaustion is easing up a bit since it is 7:30 in the evening and I'm awake. Today I was only tired for about a quarter of the day. When I'm tired I get grumpy and cry at the drop of a hat. Fortunately I've only had to run off to the bathroom at work a couple of times to cry.
That's the big news. A couple of weeks ago - no make that about 2.5 months ago I was debating on whether or not I should leave my current job since I saw that I was going nowhere fast. There were promises to promote me as the company grew and the operations manager needed help but alas the company would not grow in the time frame everyone had set out in their business plan. I kept trudging along as the Agent Services Administrator (receptionist w/ a minor role as an office manager of sorts). Finally I could take it no more. There were major changes in management, which were for the better, but I didn't think I could work with the new proposed head honcho - who happens to be a terrific woman and great business woman but her style was too corporate for me.... Anyway... I decided it was time for me to jump ship. I interviewed with Redfin and was offered a job - it payed a little more and would have allowed me to take my dog to work (I told them they should meet my dog before making that kind of offer - Kea is a super freak of the wiggly sort). But the interviews came just days before I found out I was pregnant. I even told Redfin of 'my condition' and they still wanted to hire me knowing that I would only be there until November. There was even talk of me working from home - even a few hours after the baby was born if I so desired.
Not being one who likes change I decided that I should only go through one huge life change at a time. I really hope I made the right decision. I'm really not liking my job but that shouldn't be too surprising - being a receptionist is not the most exciting or fulfilling job out there.
That's all I have for now. I think my next post will be about my wierd dream that was, I believe, influenced by my friends living in Palestine and by the t.v. show Jericho (I'm a t.v. junkie).
Friday, March 09, 2007
Distractions
This is going to be a quick post. I wanted to put it up while I was most concerned with it - at work but that wouldn't be right, now would it?
But it's not right to have the picture on my computer desk top set to be such a distraction, either.
Bob is such a distraction when I'm at work. I can't stop looking! She is so darn cute! I know I should change my desktop but how can I? I sit there at my desk and take a peek. I know I shouldn't look because I get stuck staring at her.
For those of you who have been to my house you think I'm lying about having two cats because you only ever see Gwen, the fat white cat. Bob takes off at the first sound of footsteps coming up the stairs from the sidewalk. Poor kitty, she's deathly afraid of everyone but me and Ryan. It's only been in the last year that she lets us hold her - and she does so grudgingly. Last night I picked Bob up off our bed and brought her with me into the living room and sat down on the floor where Ryan and I were playing Blokus. I was expecting Bob to jump out of my lap the second I sat down but she stayed for several minutes! It was a breakthrough! It may not sound like much but we've had Gwen and Bob (they are sisters) a month after we got married - it's taken 4 1/2 years and Bob finally sat on my lap after I picked her up and put her there. (I think she may have walked across my lap a few times; it was not out of affection, I was just in her path).
Sunday, March 04, 2007
Zoolander
Ryan took me up skiing last weekend. We left at 9:00 am and were back by 2:00 and that included a stop for lunch in North Bend.
The lines to get the skis were outrageously long and once you got your equipment there was no place to sit down to put on the boots. I put my boots on and walked over to Ryan to see if he was coming with me to get the skis. He looked at my feet and said, "You're not supposed to put your boots on before you get your skis." Grr. I scoped out a place to plant it so I could take the boots off and put my shoes back on so I could stand in line for skis.
I asked the kid behind the counter - who was probably born when I was in High School to give me the slowest skis possible. Ryan on the other hand asked for freshly waxed skis - another kid, fresh out of diapers, I'm sure, went and waxed them for Ryan. That was sweet of him.
The chair lift is much easier on skis than on a snowboard. I didn't use Ryan as a crutch like I used my friend Nichole last time when I knocked her down in my attempt to stay upright. A group of four kids snowboarding on the chair behind us all fell - like dominoes. It was pretty amusing to watch.
All around me were little tykes on skis, left, right, snow plow. They were so CUTE!!! They could ski in circles around me. Ryan taught me how to turn left. Piece of cake. Ryan taught me how to turn right. No can do. I can't turn right! I'm like the Zoolander of skiing! Ryan says it's because I'm right footed that I can't place my weight on my left side like I need to turn right. At one point I finally turned right but I was going to fast and couldn't stop and I ended up falling. One ski came out of the binding and the other stuck in the snow and I tweaked my knee as my body wanted to keep tumbling but my ski was stuck in the snow. My valiant husband came over and untangled me and let me rest a moment. Since I didn't feel anything tear or pop I got back up and went back at it. This time I made it all the way down the hill. That was good for one day.
It would be nice if we could make it up one more time before the season is over. If not to ski at least to go sledding.
The lines to get the skis were outrageously long and once you got your equipment there was no place to sit down to put on the boots. I put my boots on and walked over to Ryan to see if he was coming with me to get the skis. He looked at my feet and said, "You're not supposed to put your boots on before you get your skis." Grr. I scoped out a place to plant it so I could take the boots off and put my shoes back on so I could stand in line for skis.
I asked the kid behind the counter - who was probably born when I was in High School to give me the slowest skis possible. Ryan on the other hand asked for freshly waxed skis - another kid, fresh out of diapers, I'm sure, went and waxed them for Ryan. That was sweet of him.
The chair lift is much easier on skis than on a snowboard. I didn't use Ryan as a crutch like I used my friend Nichole last time when I knocked her down in my attempt to stay upright. A group of four kids snowboarding on the chair behind us all fell - like dominoes. It was pretty amusing to watch.
All around me were little tykes on skis, left, right, snow plow. They were so CUTE!!! They could ski in circles around me. Ryan taught me how to turn left. Piece of cake. Ryan taught me how to turn right. No can do. I can't turn right! I'm like the Zoolander of skiing! Ryan says it's because I'm right footed that I can't place my weight on my left side like I need to turn right. At one point I finally turned right but I was going to fast and couldn't stop and I ended up falling. One ski came out of the binding and the other stuck in the snow and I tweaked my knee as my body wanted to keep tumbling but my ski was stuck in the snow. My valiant husband came over and untangled me and let me rest a moment. Since I didn't feel anything tear or pop I got back up and went back at it. This time I made it all the way down the hill. That was good for one day.
It would be nice if we could make it up one more time before the season is over. If not to ski at least to go sledding.
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