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.

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. : )

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

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!

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!!!

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.

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.

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.

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).

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).

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.

Hodgepodge

Here it is February 25th, 2 months after Christmas and well over a month since my birthday and I have not mailed a single thank you note. Shame on me. What am I doing about it? Updating my blog about how I feel guilty for not writing the notes and mailing them in a timely fashion.

Rules of Etiquette (or so I hear - I should ask one Emily Post) dictate that one has a full year to write thank you notes. By that time line I have plenty of time. I wonder how long that rule has been around? I'm guessing it has been around since the days of Pony Express. I imagine delivering letters took a long time when the postal services transportation system was fueled by hay.

I had vowed to write my thank you notes this weekend but alas, here it is Sunday night and I have a full evening of drying my hair and watching some TV.

This has been a relaxing weekend for me. Quite vexing for Ryan. He is trying to set up our CAT 5, high speed wireless cabling blah, blah, blah. He spent over 2 hours on the phone with Sun Rocket's tech support only to learn their gizmo is not compatible with the wiring stuff he did. So if we want online we have to unplug the whatchamacallit and plug in the dohickey. Then when we log off we have to unplug the dohickey and plug the whatchamacallit back in so we can have phone service.

Yesterday morning I had my 6th rowing lesson and it was only our second time out on the water. The coach said we were her prodigy class because we were doing in our second week what they normally don't get to until the third week. It felt good to know that what felt akward and clumsy to us was actually good for beginers. Hearing accolades was the only warming thing about the experience. It was cold and raining. It wasn't just cold it was c-c-c-c-o-o-l-l-d-d. To top it off my knees started to hurt. Rowing is a lower body sport. Your arms are there to hold the oars and guide them through the water but your legs do the lionshare of the work. Rowing is like doing squats sitting down; I don't do squats - even on a good day. I thought I could power through the pain but it became too much. I finished the practice since my only other option was to jump out of the boat and swim back to the boathouse.

I could have jumped out and swam back since I still left practice soaked to the bone. Once back at the dock we lifted the boat out of the water and hoisted it overhead and tilted it from side to side to empty out the water that accumulated during practice. BRRR!!! Gallons of water poured over us. Cold, nasty Lake Union water drenched us. I stopped at Starbucks on the way home to get a hot coco and I noticed I left a small puddle of water on the counter after I reached my hand across to give the cashier my gift card. When I got home I peeled my clothes off - all three layers were wet enough to wring water out of - and soaked in a nice hot bath until I felt my bones warm.

Maybe I'll try kayaking in the Spring.

Superbowl Sunday

This is going to be a short sad post.

What a difference a year can make.

Last year Superbowl Sunday was a holiday in Seattle. Everywhere you went there was blue and green and silver as far as the eye could see. The city was on cloud nine - not for the whole day but still...

Then the game began and it seemed the world was out to get us. The spots they did on the Steelers and Seahawks were slanted towards the Steelers as it seemed there were many more photos of the Steelers holding the Superbowl trophy thingie than the Seahawks. Then there were the refs whose salaries were obviously paid by the Steelers. Of course, some will argue that the Seahawks played horribly. Whatever. Lame calls by the refs can really put the kibosh on any momentum the team was building.

So, this year it was the Colts and Da Bears. Yippee. I wanted the Bears to win until I started watching the game. The Colts deserved to win the game as much as the Bears deserved to lose the way they played. It's just so sad that I really could have cared less about the game. I don't think I yelled at the TV, not even once. I laughed at the fumbles and not the commercials.

And about the commercials: Who was it that thought a suicide commercial would make a great advertisement for a car? That marketing whiz should be fired. These companies are paying $2.5 million for 30 seconds? You would think the commercials would be mini-Hollywood epic productions. What duds. I did like the uber-cheesy map/monster commercial though. They went low budget and didn't try to hide it.

Here is a kind of stat that makes me happy. At the beginning of football season I saw that losing team of the Superbowl for the last umpteen years always finished last in their division the following year. Fortunately the Seahawks division sucked so we weren't last! We broke the curse! : )

Whistler Part II


If you want to see more photos from Whistler go to the link at the bottom of the post. I hope that link works. I'm new to Picasa and am not having an easy time playing with it.

After a delicious breakfast of Malt-O-Meal (for me - no one else liked it) on our second morning in Whistler we were ready to hit the slopes - er - wide open golf course to go cross country skiing. I called around to find a place to rent cross country skis. The guy I spoke to on the phone told me where his shop was located and gave me really detailed directions on how to get there. I asked him for the address and he repeated the directions. I said, thanks, but can I have the address? "Sure thing," he said, then proceeded to REPEAT directions. Not wanting to sound like a rude American I rephrased my question and tried my best to not sound as annoyed as I was: "Can I get your physical address so I can Mapquest directions from my place to you?" Finally he gave me his address and I was able to get driving directions from the chalet to the golf course. I didn't use Mapquest - I hate Mapquest. Mapquest sucks; it has told me to take exits that don't exist. Once, I needed to go some place in downtown Bellevue and ended up in a residential neighborhood. So I googled his address and got directions.

I left the directions, address and name of the golf course on the dining room table.

Fortunately the guy repeating the directions to me three times drove home one thing: it was a five minute drive north of the village off of 99. So we all piled in Helen's SUV and headed north on 99. Sure enough, about 5 minutes north was the Jack Nicklaus golf club. We started out as a party of five. Hmm, if I had watched Party of Five growing up I could probably make a lame joke here... We soon became a party of three. Nichole didn't take to cross country skiing. She decided half way around our first loop that she was going to go hang out in the club house and Abbotts decided to join her. It was just Ryan, Megan and I from that point on. We spent about an hour and a half going around the golf course. I only fell once on the course and it wasn't on the one downhill part. Megan turned into the pack mule as she had the backpack. We would stop for water and start to peel layers off. Megan graciously offered up her backpack space but wouldn't let us carry it. We took her up on the offer, of course. She had the water and two winter coats stuffed in her pack.

At one point we stopped to make a snowman. Megan and I only had knit gloves so we used our bare hands. Yowza. Playing in the snow with your bare hands kinda hurts. Ryan debated on whether or not to make it a boy or girl snowman. We decided to keep it a gender-neutral snowbeing seeing as how it was a family friendly place.

We decided that we would like to try the more difficult trails and ski to Lost Lake. That was where the real work began. There were hills that we had to ski UP. Skiing up a hill is not that easy. You're standing on the snow, strapped onto very narrow waxed little boards that want to take you make you obey gravity and take you down the hill. As we were going up and up and up I realized that at some point I would have to go down the hills, too.

I fell on EVERY substantial hill. I liked the little hills that dipped down then straightened out and maybe went back up a little hill. Those were fun but the big hills, the ones where you couldn't see around the corner and the ones that just kept going and going and going... they freaked me out. At one point I was hunched down like I was told to do and I felt myself losing control and fell backwards, like I was told to do (better than falling on your face) and slid down on my back and got snow up my shirt. Good times.

Fortunately there was a kind ski instructor who took pity on me and stopped to give me lessons every time she lapped me. She taught us how to go slow down the hills and she taught me how to snowplow. At one point she told me to take my skis off and just walk down the really big hills. : ) Learning how to snowplow gave me enough of a boost of confidence that I think I'll give downhill skiing a try. Ryan was pleased to see me snowplow and it gave him hope that I'm not a lost cause.

We eventually got to Lost Lake and it looked like an open field because it was covered with snow and ice. Eh. Ryan and Megan seemed really excited to see the lake. I pretended to be excited as to not be a wet rag on the experience. So, Ryan and Megan if you are reading this now: I am glad you enjoyed it and I am not sorry that I was there. By time we got back to the club house to turn in our skis we were gone for over four hours.

That evening after we cleaned up all eight of us walked out the chalet, down the snowy road to the mountain and walked down the hillside to the village. It was so cool; we walked to the village from the chalet. That's when the drama occurred. There were two camps. There was the camp that wanted to eat at Earl's and the camp that wanted to eat at Mongolian Grill. I was planted firmly in the camp of Earl. Why would I want to spend my one dining experience in Whistler at Mongolian Grill? I can eat at Mongolian Grill in many a fine strip malls at home. Unfortunately there was a 45-60 minute wait at Earl's; whatever- every restaurant was going to have a huge wait for a party of 8 on a Saturday night. I suggested we hang out at Starbucks but that didn't go over. We ended up going down to an arcade to play games but the change machine was broken, besides, we didn't have cash with us. We splintered off into little groups and I ended up window shopping with Helen.

We stopped in a cool shop with imports from Thailand when I saw Ryan staring in at Helen through the front window. Helen was looking at something and didn't see Ryan boring a hole in her skull with his eyes. I came up next to Helen and whispered in a mildly freaked out tone, "There is a really creepy guy at the window." She looked up and screamed when she saw Ryan. I'm glad Helen has a sense of humor.

The people at Earl's under-estimated our wait time by 45 minutes. We kind of had a fit. That was just not cool. We ended up splitting into two groups of four. There was so much food and I just had to clean my plate. Then we had to walk back to the chalet. It hurt hauling my tired, sore, full self up the mountain back to the cabin. I just wanted to go to bed when we got back but that was out of the question. We ended up playing games until past midnight. Jason was disgusted that some of us were tired and wanting to sleep. He said we were not so old that we couldn't stay up til midnight. Ah, I remember when staying up 'til midnight was routine and only 'old' people were in bed by 10...

So, that's about it for Whistler. We had fun.

If you want to see more photos go to: http://picasaweb.google.com/apriljahns/Whistler02?authkey=NI29MNSOepM

Whistler

We went to Whistler last weekend. I was originally going to snowboard but I didn’t ‘take’ to snowboarding. I did take to hitting the icy ground with my fists and swearing while trying to learn how to snowboard. So for the sake of my oh-so-patient husband (and for the sake of my hands – it hurts to hit ice!) I opted for a weekend of snowshoeing and cross country skiing instead.

I took Thursday off and kind of loafed. It was great. Instead of going to work in the morning I took a gift certificate to a salon by my work and had a pedicure and manicure. ~ Thanks, Meg! So, I had all day to pack for the long weekend, which I did. I also had all day to pack our passports. I did not pack our passports. Fortunately Abbotts asked if we all remembered our passports before we hit the road. I knew the second it was out of his mouth that I forgot them at home. It took an hour to go from the Abbotts’ in North Seattle to our house in South Seattle and back. Abbotts called to make sure I wasn’t driving like a maniac ~ can’t go on a ski trip when you’re dead.

I don’t remember exactly where we were when we encountered snow but I’m glad it was dark otherwise I would have freaked out knowing we were on a small two lane highway that was winding it’s way up a cliff – mountains on one side and a long, long way down was the ocean on the other side. Knowing you can slide off the road and plummet to your death is not a good feeling.

We arrived at the cabin, pardon me, chalet, around 1:30 in the morning. The car wouldn’t make it up the hill the last little bit to our parking spot. It drove in the snow for well over an hour and finally had enough when we were just about there. I’m really glad it waited to poop out until the very end. It really would have sucked to get stranded on the ‘side’ of the itty bitty Sea to Sky highway.

We all hit the sack shortly after arriving. Ryan & co. drew straws at work and we got the second best accommodations (a queen size bed in a private room). Well, I would call it semi-private. Sure, there were four walls but you could hear a mouse squeak two floors away!

Bright and early the next morning everyone but three girls hit the slopes. I wish I had a picture of the guys trying to help Ryan into his ski boots. At one point Ryan was lying on the floor with another guy wrestling his leg trying to get enough leverage to lock in a strap on his boot. It was really funny to watch.

Helen, Nichole and I went to the Village - (that is so much fun to say ~ "What did you do today?" "Me? Well, I went into the Village.") - to buy groceries for lunch and breakfast since we couldn't bring a lot of food across the border. Meat and cheese were forbidden items. Never mind that the grocery store sold Tillamook cheese in Whistler. We went into sticker shock in the store. OK, I went into shock. There we were, an hour and a half north of Vancouver, B.C., in the heart of the resort town known as Whistler, in the cutesy grocery store with the mood lighting, special displays of European chocolates, the deli with the special cheeses and olives and the bakery with every kind of baked good your little heart could desire and there were the price tags on the said goods. The teeny, tiny price tags. And no, I don't mean the price tag itself was small, I mean the cost was minuscule. I was in shock. Was this loaf of bread really only $0.95 ~ it wasn't on a shelf of day old stuff ~ yep, it was good. Then it really hit me. It wasn't $0.95 in American dollars. No! It was 95 cents CANADIAN dollars! It was less than 95 cents for a loaf of bread. *small side note (literally): gas was freakin' expensive but that detracts from the story of the outrageously cheap food*

Listen up Seattle-ites: We are getting hosed at the grocery store! I knew prices were more expensive in Seattle but c'mon! Does it really cost that much less to ship the food Whistler than to Seattle? I understand land and rent are not cheap in Seattle but I really don't think dirt is cheap in Whistler. Sheesh. I'm surprised Nichole and Helen didn't slap me because I wouldn't shut up about the prices.

See the pretty picture up top? I want to go back. Forget tropical vacations where you have to worry about bathing suits and diets. Winter vacations with sweaters and bulky coats are the way to go!

OK, that's all I have for now. I'll write more about our adventures in Whistler in a few days.

I'm officially an adult!

30 years old as of yesterday. Happy one day late birthday to me!

I notice that I've changed the date of 'official' adult status a few times. The first was when I turned 18 - able to vote, then 21 - able to drink, now 30 - able to... ?
Maybe I keep changing it because I don't 'feel' any older. I don't want to wake up one day and say, "Hm, I feel old." Maybe people feel old when their bodies start to fail. That criterion won't work for me either since I've had creaky knees for so long now that I don't consider it an 'old person' ailment.

Ah ha! I have it! The official "official adult" age criteria: 25. The age at which you can rent a car and attend a timeshare presentation. So, I've been an adult for 5 years and didn't even know it.

So... yesterday. My birthday. The first half of the day Ryan and I cleaned the house and at 2:00 his mom and step-dad showed up and they too cleaned the house. The whole time of the mass cleaning effort no one said why we were cleaning like it was a normal everyday occasion for your in laws to drive an hour and a half to visit to promptly begin cleaning. We all knew why we were cleaning but no one said a word.

My bible study girl friends took me to dinner at Guadalajara in West Seattle in the evening. We had a lovely, huge Mexican feast. Heidi pointed out early on that our server sounded like Fez from That 70's Show. Every time he came over I had to suppress the strong urge to giggle and I avoided eye contact with Heidi for fear I would see her trying to not laugh and lose all control.

The girls dropped me off at home and I invited them in to the house. It was odd, the lights were off and the house was quiet. Not even a wiggly yellow dog came to greet me. Do I smell a surprise party? Yes, I do! The lights came on and everyone yelled, "Surprise!" I was surprised. I knew it was going to happen but I wasn't sure who was going to be there. Soccer friends, actually Ryan's co-workers & their spouses turned friends over two seasons of soccer, my girls of course and my family! I was so surprised that they came up! It was such a nice surprise to see my mom, brother and sis-in-law and my Aunt Paulette and cousin Ashley!

Everyone brought gifts. It has been a very long time since I sat on a chair and people stared at me while I opened gifts. Well, they watched, not so much stared. Stare has such a rude connotation. I did decide last night that we need some sort of stereo upstairs. Using the music channels on the TV isn't quite the same as playing CDs.

I got a hula hoop from my mom. I asked for it. I hope that sometime this year I will be able to keep it up around my waist for... any length of time, actually.

It snowed on Wednesday night! It was light and fluffy and compacted nicely into ice over night so I couldn't go to work. : ) I like living on a hill and working on a hill.
I especially like that there is a huge valley between the two hills.
No one expects me to brave the treacherous hills to come into the office.
So Thursday was a snow day for me!

I got so much done! Since I couldn't put off doing laundry any longer and
seeing as how birthday suits are not socially acceptable (nor practical in January) I washed and dried and folded all day long. I even swept and dusted; between the two cats and dog I swear there is enough fur that accumulates in one week to spin yarn and make a queen size blanket.
Would that be gross? Collecting cat fur to make yarn? What's the difference
between that and an angora rabbit's fur or a sheep's wool for that matter?

What an off night. One of Ryan's co-workers and his wife are looking for a new church so he asked Ryan what kind of church we go to and said he would like to come to visit ours. We thought that was pretty cool since we had no idea they were spiritually inclined. Hmm, that sounds like I'm calling them heathens. I'm not. They are really cool, fun and more importantly, nice people. So, we met up at the church.

After the first song I knew it was going to be a bad night. Ryan told Ryan and Nichole (from here on out it will be Abbotts and Nichole; I know Ryan Abbotts hates being called Abbotts but I must), that the 5 o'clock service was a contemporary service. 'Contemporary' is a very relative term. It is contemporary when compared the robed hymn singing choir in the morning but not at all contemporary when compared to a church that has a worship band and plays music that is more like rock 'n roll than hymns. Earl, the senior pastor, likes the music selection to fit with his message. That's cool but every song was slooow and very much like a hymn. Hymn's are great but if I wanted to sing nothing but hymn's I would go to a morning service. So, the music was less than great. Then Earl's sermon, well, Earl doesn't give sermons as much as he gives lessons. Earl's lesson was just not something I was grasping. His reading was from Revelations and it was about God being the Creator. The only thing I really took away from him tonight was when he gave the advice to not read too much into the great creatures in the book of Revelations. That really is something, actually. Maybe I'll try reading Revelations again.

After church we went to Cedars which serves the best Indian food in all of Seattle. OK, I can't really say that with much authority because I've only been to a few Indian places. The wait was supposed to be 15 minutes but was more like 30 and it was crowded as usual. We figured it would be OK because they are so quick to take your order and bring out the food. Wrong. We sat down and had our drink order taken right away. Then a table that was seated after us had their order taken and the waiter left. We were waiting and waiting and waiting for a server to come by and take our order. Ryan kind of lost his cool and yelled, "Hey!" when the waiter left the dining room after scanning it and overlooking us. When he finally showed up Nichole wasn't sure she wanted to order. I don't blame her for wanting to leave. But the food is so good! I hate that I will put up with horrible service and sub-par atmosphere because I want their chicken tikka masala and chai so bad. We did all order and the food was very good but it's too bad the service was so off tonight because they are normally very fast. Not the warmest bunch of servers but the fastest.

So the music was blah at church, the sermon/lesson was less than inspiring and the service at Cedars was the worst. At least the company was good. We are going to try out a new church with Abbotts and Nichole. My girlfriends would disown me if they knew I'm going to set foot inside Mars Hill. I just want to see what it's like. Katie actually said, "We can't be friends if you go to Mars Hill." And everyone else chimed in, "Yes." That made me want to go even more just to test them. I don't like churches where there is no one between the pastor and the congregation. There is usually a token board to counsel the pastor but they are appointed by the pastor and are usually just yes men. I came from a church where the pastor had the final say in everything. Now I see that a church that has some form of government/leadership is a good thing. If the pastor is off there is a governing body to reign him in. I am most interested in Mars Hills' worship. I really miss being out of the Christian music scene. I have no idea who anyone is anymore. The Christian station in Seattle suck. They play really old music and lots of worship music. If I want to hear worship music I'll go to church or put in a CD. I want to know who the latest and greatest is. I'm totally clueless. I occasionally flip over to the Christian station but am always disgusted with their music selection. I always turn it back to the alternative station that plays Death Cab for Cutie, Snow Patrol, Wolfmother, Red Hot Chili Peppers and the like. I know there are good alternative types of Christian bands out there but where they are hiding, I don't know. If you know of any good Christian bands that have come out in the last few years please clue me in.

Lookout, Hollywood!

I think my movie should be out soon. Didn't you know I was in one? Oh, yeah. I'm all that. It was a production by BCC. Bellevue Community College. My character was girl extra number 10. I think I was number 10. I completely forgot to write about the experience when it was fresh in my head. Let's see if I can step back in time to the month of June.... (if you were watching this like a TV sitcom the screen would go kind of hazy and you would see me looking off into the distance....)

Here is the post I started but did not finish this summer:

If all had gone according to plan I would have had a very normal weekend. Well, normal for me. Working around the house, eating microwaved meals that came out of a box and maybe doing a little yard work. About 4:30 on Sunday afternoon I got a call from Krissy. She said that she had a question for me and that it might sound kind of odd. Jenn (Krissy's roommate and my friend, too) passed on an opportunity to be an extra in a movie that was being shot in Kirkland but would I like to be in it as an extra? I think I said something like, "What? No way! When? Where?! Let me ask Ryan!" I got the name of the place and hung up, then breathlessly told Ryan I was going to Kirkland to be a potential extra in a movie!

... now working from my memory....

I took the fastest shower of my adult life and only mildly agonized over the clothes I was going to wear. Krissy told me the scene was a speed dating scene so I threw on a cute black skirt, a shirt that probably shows too much cleavage and left my ring on my nightstand. That felt weird, leaving my "I'm taken marker" at home.

I didn't find out what kind of production it was until I arrived at TJ's, the bar that was the scene of the party. The official looking guy (read: the guy with the clipboard) at the door to the bar was my first clue that the outfit wasn't super prestigious since he seemed really sincere when he thanked me for coming. Who is excited to see an extra? Really?

I sat and fidgeted for a while and kept looking for Krissy. She arrived just as I was calling her. She too was thrown by the sincere thanks for showing up from Mr. Clipboard. We sat and chatted with some of the other extras. One guy was something else. I just felt so bad for the guy. He really wanted to make it big in Hollywood. Really, really, really. I think he also wanted a girl friend. Really, really, really. I really, really, really wanted my wedding ring on my finger. Really. I don't remember his name which is fine because I would rather not publish not so nice things about him and use his name. Not that anyone outside of a few family and friends are going to read this. So, I'll call him James. James took a liking to me and Krissy. I think because we are cute and were nice enough to talk to him and probably because we were the first girls he saw. James was cute enough but you knew he wasn't all right when you looked at him. He was entirely too wide for his frame. He had short guy syndrome; build out if you feel inadequately short. Someone should really tell them that getting wider, even if it is solid muscle, just makes you look even shorter and less attractive. I shouldn't say that, maybe some women like the, "I'm-so-big-and-strong-I-would-snap-if-I-had-to-bend-to-tie-my-shoelaces" look.

Ladies, if you want to throw a salivating guy off your trail and onto fresh blood I have a GREAT answer to the question: "So, what do you like to do for fun?" Or, "How are you two friends?"

James: So, how do you two know each other?
Me: We are in the same bible study.

James, eyes slightly wider, noticeably sadder, but still hopeful: Oh, yeah? What do you guys like to do for fun?
Me: I like to hang out with my husband and you know, go to coffee shops, study the bible.

It was so much fun. Krissy did well and not laughing out loud although I could see she was dying to let it out.

So the scene that probably took up 5-10 minutes of the movie took at least 8 hours to shoot. Ohmigosh. It was sooooo boring. They lined up the girl extras and gave us numbers and told us where to sit. The guys, 'real' actors had to shuffle from table to table until they got to the table with Sarah, the main character, or was her name Amy? Well, one of the guys was really funny. He was the stereo-typical high school jock guy who seemed like he was staying in character. We were supposed to talk quietly so we chatted about where we were from and all that jazz. But he kept asking really personal questions and me, not liking conflict, kept going along until I couldn't take it anymore. I try to show displeasure but people think it's cute ~ no one takes me seriously until I swear. So, Mr. Nosey finally quit asking questions. Meanwhile James kept circulating through and, sorry Krissy, I was much happier when he was at your table than mine. He was too much.

We put our names and contact information on a list and are supposed to be contacted when the movie is done and ready to be viewed. I wonder if Krissy remembers it is supposed to be done sometime right around the New Year. It looked like a really lame movie. I can only imagine how bad the other scripts were that the students submitted for this one to be the chosen one. It's not very original. A girl decides she wants to get married by the end of the year and sets out determined to find her soul mate at the ripe old age of 22. Hilarity (not really) ensues as she does everything she possibly can to meet the man of her dreams. If the speed dating scene was an indication of the rest of the movie: it's going to stink. My favorite character was the guy who played the business man. He was too busy to date so he tried speed dating and was on his cell phone the entire time. He cracked me up! He reminded me of a friend from high school, Rob Bennett.

So, after hours of sitting in tall bar stools and pretending to talk we finally were released to go but were told that if we wanted to make sure our faces were in the scene we could stick around for the next sequence. No thanks. If it hadn't been 11 pm and a Sunday with work to face the next day I would have stayed because it is fascinating to see how a film is produced.

Ryan and I saw part of a film being produced in Paris and it looked just as boring as what we were doing at TJ's in Kirkland. It was November and very cold and the actors were just sitting at a table outside waiting and waiting and waiting. People all around them were measuring. Measuring from the light to the chair, to the mug to the actor to the camera. It was crazy. Crazy boring. Like this post is turning out to be.

GO SEAHAWKS!!!

What a game! I only saw bits and pieces because I was getting ready for my friend Wendy's 30th birthday party that started at 7. It was painful to hear muffled crowd sounds coming through the bathroom door. I would stop drying my hair when I thought I heard sounds coming from the TV and whip open the door and yell, "I heard crowd noise! What happened?" Usually it was nothing good.

Once at the party Ryan and I were good for a while but Ryan eventually asked the host if he could turn the t.v. on to the game, promising he would mute it. The host wisely deferred to Wendy who told Ryan he could if he did it downstairs. At first it was just Ryan then slowly an exodus occurred. I ran back and forth between the party upstairs and the party downstairs. I hope Wendy wasn't too upset I was watching the game. There were not many people that I could talk to upstairs. Well, I probably could have talked to people but why? I don't think I'll see most of them ever again and they were all theater people who've been acting together for years. Hmm, does this mean I'm not the social butterfly I thought I was? Downstairs was a wonderful crowd of people that had a commonality: Football. We didn't have to make awkward small talk because we were too busy yelling at the TV together.

Back to the game: How bad does that holder feel that he could not hold on to the ball that was snapped perfectly well? They kept replaying the botched hold job over and over and over. I can only imagine how awful that guy feels. Oh, well. I would rather he feel bad and the Seahawks go to the playoffs. GO SEAHAWKS!!!

It was a good party even though I only knew 5 people there out of the 30 or so that were there. The birthday girl, her husband Lars - who by the way - seems a little different. He seemed more outgoing. Let's see, who else? The birthday girls' brother, Justin. Very cool guy. It's still wierd seeing Justin as an adult, an adult with a fiance, Kim, at least I think that's her name. I remember when Justin had a cabbage patch doll; Wendy and I have been friends for a very long time... Justin wasn't an adult with a doll, just a very young kid (and my brother and all his friends had cabbage patch dolls, too - that's for you Justin, in case you happen to read this). Justin's band played at my wedding. He and some buddies from school had a jazz band and they were young enough that they would accept the measely amount we could afford to shell out and they were AMAZING!!! Everyone loved them. Worth every penny and then some. I think Ryan liked them so much he paid them a little extra. A little. But a little to a college kid is a lot, right?

So, a great game and great party all in one night. Can't beat that for a Saturday night, right? And, I was so good I didn't even have a piece of cake! If you know me you know how truely shocking that is. I'll indulge in a piece of cake on my birthday... this Saturday! Woo-hoo! I'm going to be 30! I'm so excited! Ryan knows well enough to have a yellow cake with chocolate frosting. One year, I think our first year together he didn't get me a cake and I had a melt down. Well, mini-melt down. I made him take me to Safeway so I could buy a piece of cake. Sounds kind of crazy now that I'm writing it down. Well, let's just call it part of my charm.

I'm dying to know what he's going to do. I've been none to subtle letting him know how much this one means to me and have told him that I want a party. Everyone tells me that men aren't mind readers; although Ryan's pretty good at picking up on hints. If I point out something at the store that I like it may very well end up under the Christmas tree even if it's been 6 months. So, my hints, I think have done their job as Ryan has been Mr. Not-so-subtle recently. That and his co-worker said, "I'll see you in two weeks. I think that's supposed to be a surprise, though." Grrr. I don't mind knowing when I'm not supposed to but sheesh! Can no one keep a secret? I did have one other surprise party. My bible study girls threw me a surprise bridal shower but Amee, then friend and bridesmaid, couldn't hold the excitement in and burst at the house as we were packing up to go to the scene of the party which I thought was just going to be a girls night. We lived in the same neighborhood. It makes me laugh when I think about it. Amee was so giddy! Then I had to act surprised when I got there. They went all out with the decorations but since my mom is probably reading this I'll leave the decorations to your imagination.

Christmas is only four days away. It seems like a lifetime ago when being this close to Christmas felt like being on the threshold of heaven's gates. Does that feeling come back when you have kids of your own?

I do enjoy watching my niece open gifts. Actually, I enjoy teasing her along with her uncle and dad before we open presents. It's a joy only an adult can know. The looks Laura sneaks at the tree start the second she enters Nana and Grandpa's house. She barely gets her obligatory hugs in before she stands by the tree pretending to look at ornaments. The part of dinner that turns from eating and complementing Mom to lingering and grabbing a small helping of this and another bite of that is when the serious case of antsy strikes Laura. She is SO helpful at the end of the meal; rather she is helpful at trying to usher in the end of the meal because she knows we can't open presents with dirty dishes in the kitchen. "Are you done? Can I take your plate?" "Nana, where does this go?" "Mom, can you wash this off so it can go in the dishwasher?"
Ah, that's the best part of Christmas. I hope she likes the Cabbage Patch Doll we got her for Christmas. I can' believe they are back. So are My Little Pony, Strawberry Shortcake and Easybake Ovens! I'd much rather my niece play with a Cabbage Patch Doll than one of those Bratz dolls. How scary are those things? Those Bratz look like slutty little tramps. Gag.

We at least decorated our house this year for Christmas. Last year we didn't do a thing as we moved in and immediately left on vacation and got back days before Christmas. We got a Douglas Fir this year. It's a tad on the big side. We measured the space where it was going to go before we picked one out ~ we just went to the maximum size. And, being a full bushy tree makes the fit seem that much more snug. Ryan put indoor/outdoor LED lights on the tree. It's his job to put the lights on because when I put them on the tree I get angry and start swearing and ruin the festive spirit and Ryan has to bail me out anyway. He's the engineer so he can place the lights and I place the ornaments. But I digress. Indoor slash OUTDOOR lights on a tree. Can you say ugly? Did I mention they are the big bulbs? On the outside of the house they make it look like a gingerbread house, on the tree they make it look tacky. Ryan was so disgusted with my whining about our ugly tree that he offered to buy new lights and to re-decorate the tree. I told him no thanks; I enjoy telling people about our ugly tree. Those big lights on a tree bring back memories of some neighbors who put the big bulbs on their trees. They were hippies and smoked pot and lived in a dark house. Now when I see our tree I see hippies and pot.

Merry Christmas!

I can't sleep. I tried for 15 whole minutes to fall asleep. That didn't work so well. This evenings activities have not been conducive to aiding a restful night. I went for a walk/jog after work for 4 dc Talk songs, so 20 minutes. I took Kea and she actually slowed me down a little. She probably hasn't recovered from her weekend at Camp Monten (my in-laws house out in the sticks - they are very beautiful sticks over looking Hood Canal). I then read part of chapter 5 of Knowing God by JI Packer. I'm woefully behind in my readings and my bible study is going to be discussing the book on Thursday! Reading about the Trinity and other hangups people have about the Christian faith is not something that is going to lull me to sleep. So, I watched a great heathen show, Rockstar: Supernova. Talk about a contrast in thought and action. I started out my evening reading about salvation and redemption and the Word-word play on words that John has in the beginning of his epistle to watching Tommy Lee and Dave Navarro critique aspiring rockstars and bopping my head to a song about someone getting a new .45 and Sanchez had better watch out or, more appropriately listening to "Losing my Religion". Now I have all of this great music in my head, not all of you in my reading audience (Mom) would agree that the music in my head is great but it's there nonetheless and I have beside me, waiting to be read, Knowing God.
While I was reading the thoughts of one Mr. Packer the phone rang. It was a survey and would I like to participate? Me? Give my 2 cents worth? (By the way, I don't like that keyboards don't have the cent sign anymore. $.02 just doesn't do it for me). The survey man asked me a pop culture question. Bingo, I got it right. He then asked me another pop culture question. Again, I did not fail in my knowledge of trivial material. It was the third question that he asked that gave me a sinking feeling. It was a political question!!! I was taking part in a how-dumb-are-Americans? survey!!! It was an easy one though. What are the three branches of the US government. I think the survey guy was surprised when I answered correctly. Two more pop questions. I was getting embarrassed that the pop questions were so easy and I know more than one of my girlfriends would have bombed the pop questions. I missed one pop question (who was the American Idol winner in '06 - and I watched the show. I was happy that I honestly forgot who won). I missed two or three political questions - I didn't' know who was sworn in recently on the Supreme Court and I can't remember the other question I got wrong.
At the end of the survey I said I was embarrassed to have missed the questions that I did and the survey guy told me I actually did better than most people, I told him I was afraid of that.
Hmmm, sitting here and pouring my once racing thoughts into this blog had helped put me to sleep - hopefully you aren't nodding off.

We are making progress. At least that is what we are telling ourselves. The kitchen is done. Well, I need to paint the new sill and Ryan will install the trim. Then it will be done. It's nice to have a place to cook and a place to clean dishes other than the bathtub or creepy utility sink in the basement.
The project that consumed this weekend was the fireplace insert. Last weekend Ryan hauled himself up onto the roof a handful of times to put in flexible vent pipes. I helped him by sticking my arm up the flue to pull the tubes in so he can connect them to the fireplace insert. This week it is about getting the mantle ready.
We bought a mantle off Craigs list a few months ago. It will be pretty once it is painted but right now it is dark brown and looks like it was built in 1960. Kind of ugly. As always there were a few bumps along the way and the design changed. To keep the mantle from getting too hot we had to keep it a safe distance from the insert and to keep Ryan from having to dismantle the entire brick fireplace surround to have access to the gas he had to place the insert out further, closer to the hearth. Now the mantle is turning into a massive structure. We stopped and looked at it this afternoon and thought that the scale was off. Small living room, huge fireplace. So Ryan thought to tie in the fireplace and surround he would make window seats to flank the unit. The fireplace installation gave birth to a new project, built in window seats. He made one in the West Seattle house but this one will be a little different. How, we don't know yet. But I'm certain that it will be cute.

Here is my final post on little Snickerdoo, aka Snickerdoodle, Snicks, Snickers, bunny bun bun buns. The wee little thing died Sunday, June 25th; she was 5 years old. I miss the little rabbit. I waited to post something because I was too upset to think about her for the length of time it would take for me to write this. I'm glad I made my previous post on the bunny, just a month before she died. If you think I'm being silly over 'just a rabbit' I bought her at the pet store when she was just a baby, only a few weeks old and I've had her longer than the cats and dog. She was my first pet as an adult on my own. When I would visit Ryan on the weekends I would bring her with me to Seattle. Then she made the move from Vancouver to West Seattle and finally to Beacon Hill. She definitely had a personality shift since being given some freedom to roam in the yard, she really mellowed out. Although she had a luxurious pad in the other house this last home was definitely the best habitat for a rabbit, some might say the best rabbitat. Ha. Having a fenced backyard was a great change from the small front yard we had in West Seattle where she could only be if on a harness, which she hated, and watched over every second. I wish I had a close up of her face because the fur above her eyes turned really dark, almost black; it looked like she was constantly scowling. I didn't realize how much the color of their fur changes - they are constantly changing colors. She was a light brown when I got her, hence her name, Snickerdoodle. So, that is all for Snicks. Farewell, my sweet little bunny.

I cooked tonight!!! It was a little after 8 pm after Ryan finished setting up the gas for the cooktop. I never thought I would enjoy cutting cold chicken as much as I did. The food wasn't that great, the chicken was a little dry and I didn't have a key ingredient to make teriyaki, namely teriyaki sauce but I COOKED IT IN MY OWN KITCHEN so it was DELICIOUS!!! Not a culinary masterpiece but I don't really care.
Isn't it so pretty? Now we just have finishing touches left, like touch up paint, quarter round, molding around the doors and window. Then it will be done, done, done!
Last night I washed dishes in the sink for the first time. The first thing I did with my freshly washed cute little glass that was passed down from my grandma Mae was pour myself a celebratory drink of my favorite, Bailey's Irish Cream. That was a nice way to celebrate my marginal role in the development of the kitchen. That is not to detract from my role in destroying the original kitchen. I can swing a mean sledge hammer but I'm not so skilled with the plumbing and electrical work.
I hung some pots and pans from the pot rack tonight. I think it makes the kitchen look smaller and a little cluttered so I'm not sure if they are going to stay up there. We can always hang cute utensils up there instead.