Fingers That Bind

Last night as I was kickin' it at TheModel's house his roommate came home, poked his head in TheModel's room and saw me sitting on the bed, cozy as could be, as if I belonged there. We bantered back and forth, it ended with him saying something, me responding with a snarky comment, and then him holding up two fingers next to each other – the index and middle fingers, to be precise – then he instructed me, "Pick a finger." "Well, I personally like this one." I said, as I showed him my choice, the middle one of course. What could he say? He'd never seen me do that before, so it was kind of a surprise, but he got over it rather quickly. I think that sometimes the willingness to flip someone the proverbial "bird" eases some tension. Plus, it settled me in with them a bit more comfortably. Now, all I have to do is get painfully hot, then they'll all want to date me. Actually, I'm rapidly becoming a good guy friend, so no future dating in the stars. C'est la vie.

I Need a Jump

When I went on my trip home I rented a car. Frankly, I don't think my van would make it that far, and I wasn't overly excited for the gas mileage. Wednesday morning, I had to return the rental car, and my roommate volunteered to follow me in my van so I could have it for the rest of the day. When we got out there, the battery was dead. That sucks. So, now I don't have a vehicle, and I'm annoyed.

Last night I decided I needed to get jumped (which is to say, I needed to get my car jump-started, not get myself jumped, though, given the company I wouldn't be opposed to it), so I marched my butt across the street to the "boys" house. I rang the doorbell, and waited. TheModel answered the door, and invited me to see what he bought. I headed to the back of the house, and was intercepted by SurferBoy. We chatted for a bit, then TheModel asked me where I had gone off too. I went into his room where he showed me his new toy: a Sony Viao VGN-S460P/B. Sweet. He paid too much for it, but DANG! We ended up playing with it for two hours, then I had to go home. So, I didn't get my van jumped, oh well. I guess I have to go back tonight.
When I left he said, "Give me some love." I hugged him, enjoying every moment of it, before heading out.

"Good night." I muttered into his chest.

"Good night, babe." He said back, "We still need to do dinner sometime, then we can really talk." That comment harkens back this post. Yummy.

Cell Phones in the Woods

My little sister cannot, apparently, survive for a weekend without her trusty cell phone. I've come to believe that she's more attached to that stupid device than she is to me.

While we were camping I asked her to stoke the fire while I did something else. She was, apparently, on the phone. Not wanting to hang up long enough to do said task she cradled it between her shoulder and ear. Not surprisingly, she was upset when it slipped and fell into the fire. Luckily, however, the only thing that happened was the caseing melted in a couple of spots. Good thing too, she paid way more for her phone that I am willing to, and she has no insurance on it.

Later that evening, as I drifted off to sleep I was warmed by the slight glow of her key pad as she exchanged text messages with her friends.

Next time the thing is staying at our parents' home.

Camping With a City Girl

On our ill-fated camping trip last weekend, my kid sister did a slew of things that really made me question her parentage.

We went camping at a public camp ground, one of those "maintained" ones. You know the kind, they actually have a biffy (Bathroom In Forest For You - a.k.a Out House), so you don't have to dig a hole, etc. Eventually, she decided she needed to use the washroom. No big deal. I point her in the right direction (well within eye sight) and caution, "Don't get people-napped".

A bit later I hear a knocking that sounds a bit too slow for a wood-pecker. I glance over in the direction of the biffy, and see that the camp site directly behind it is inhabited with a rather rowdy looking crowd. Must be them, I reason. Moments later I hear a frantic cry, "GORP!!!" (Good Ol' Raisn and Peanuts – forgive me, my family nickname is only remotely related to my given name, and a girl can only come up with so many nicknames for herself, so GORP is gonna have to do) She sounded so panicked that I started running towards her (something one should never do in a camp site unless one of two things is happening (1) bad things to the person you're with or (2) bad things to you. Since this fell under category one I husseled my fat a-- over to the biffy. As I was thus engaged she called out desperately again, "GRANOLA!!!!" "I'm coming!" I hollered back. I arrived, breathless, to find her still in the biffy.

"What's the matter?" I asked, worried that she fell in. Trust me, that's not a place you want to fall in to.

"I can't get out. I'm locked in."

I smile. That happened to me when I went, I guess I forgot to mention it. "Push the door, then undo the latch."

"Pull the door?"

"No. Push. Did you have to push to get it to lock?"

"Yes."

"Then you need to push it to unlock it. Here, try now," I say as I pull on the handle.

Free at last! We laughed about it long and hard. Silly girl. Stuck in the john. Later when she had to use it again I gave her two cautions, "Don't get people-napped. Oh, and don't lock the door."

"Lock the door??"

"No. Don't."

Blogging on the Road

The great thing about blogging is you can do it just about anywhere and anytime. This, however, always goes straight out the window when one goes on holiday. Thus, I have tons of new blog fodder from my jaunt home, and no clue where to start. Tragically, if I limit myself to one thing per day I shall not be able to catch up, whilst keeping current. We'll have to see how well I do. Wish me luck – it'll suck if I don't get to them all and forget them.

Bloggin' USA

Mumsy started a blog last night. Don't know if you care, but if you're curious you can check her out here.

Camping

I took my kid sister camping this weekend. It's safe to say she is not a camper. Wow. Mom failed her somewhere. Tragic, really. I should have had a clue how it was going to go when we couldn't find the sleeping bags (turns out, they're locked in the separated garage), and I told her that was just fine, we could make bedrolls and call it good. Her response to that: "What's a bedroll?" Erm, did we grow up in the same house? I've been making bedrolls for as long as I can remember -- I like them better, as they tend to be more flexible with the season, weather, and temperature of a given local. How she has managed to make it nigh unto 21 years and not know how to make a bedroll is beyond me.

Your Mom!

I have a problem. I say "Your Mom ---!" a lot. Sometimes this results in abnormal things, other times embarassing things.

Last week RayOfSunshine and I were talking about some great hardware deal he found. "It's fast and cheap!" He declared. "Your mom's fast and..." Whoops! We had a great laugh as he raised his eyebrows at me.

This morning, however, was a different story. Mumsy had put on something that looked quite silly. My little sister was sitting on the couch, while I sat at the computer reading old blog posts to her. Mumsy came out to the living room and asked what we thought, my sister told her to take it off. "Why?" "Because it looks ugly!" Mom didn't feel like listening to it and thus turned and walked out of the room. As she was leaving I said to my sister, "Your Mom's ugly!" Mumsy came back in to find out what all the laughter was about. We didn't even try to lie. She'll be reading this post anyway.

The Upside of the IRA

Today at lunch we were discussion terrorist groups, including the IRA. I happened to comment that, "actually, the IRA is the most egalitarian of all terrorist organizations." FamilyMan laughed nervously, and asked rhetorically, "Why am I not surprised that you know that, Granola?" We had a brief discussion on that, and how I happened to be privy to the information -- I had just read a paper on female terrorists, and that information happened to be in said paper. FamilyMan kind of shook his head, "Ok, whatever you say, 'Grand Dragon'." Then I asked, "So, what's wrong with reading papers about female terrorist organizations?" MyBoss picked up on those last words, "There are female terrorist organizations?" He asked, a whole lot surprised. This lead us into a discussion on that, and why women would form and/or join terrorist organizations. According to the paper I read (which I can't cite because it hasn't been published, yet) in some countries where women are viewed as the "honor bearer" and have lost that honor as a result of rape they have an opportunity to regain the family honor by successfully carrying out a suicide mission. Carnivore got a discussed look on his face and what he said wasn't quite what I was expecting, "It's just sick and wrong that they can go and do something that violent and wrong, and it's all O.K. for them, but the women are the ones who end up paying for it with their lives." Exactly, my friend, exactly.

We ended up having a very interesting and insightful discussion on that, brief as it was. In the end, however, they were still curious as to why I had read that paper. "It was on my coffee table and I didn't have anything else to read." "Why was it on your coffee table?" "My roommate is really big into human rights and stuff and is part of a research group and was reading that for her research group." That, and it is really interesting to learn about. It kind of makes me wonder where people find papers like that to leave lying around the house.

Friday

My Step-Grandfather's funeral is going to be this Friday. Plane tickets home are ridiculously priced, so I think I'm going to rent a car and drive out there. Including gas and food I will end up $3-400 ahead. I wasn't kidding about the ridiculous part.

Every morning at work we have a 10 minute meeting where we kind of give people a heads up for the week. I told GoteeBoy that I would probably be missing Friday and Monday for the funeral. He asked if I was aware that we get bereavement leave. Yes, I am. Three days for extended family, but I would probably take only two. He encouraged me to take all three.

Later in the same meeting Carnivore mentioned that we are having a fire drill on Friday, and we have to participate in it. We joked about how to get around it. Someone suggested just taking the day off work. I mentioned, then, to the whole group that I wouldn't be in on Friday or Monday. They were shocked that I would miss the fire drill, mandatory ribbing ensued. "Yeah, I'll be spending Friday with the burnt remains of my grandfather, instead." "Oh!" RayOfSunshine declared from the back, "Now I'm a jerk!" I guess I hadn't really told everyone, just a few people here and there. Well, now everyone knows.

This lead to a renewed discussion of bereavement leave. They all told me I should take all three days, after all, "It's part of your benefits! Use it!" With that kind of encouragement, how can I not? So, I'll probably be taking off Tuesday as well, though I don't know what I'll be doing. Maybe just partying it up? Anyway, it's really nice that I have that time off.

My little sister, on the other hand, may not even get one day of bereavement, because as a "step" he ceases to be "extended family." Uh, hello, lame! For all they know he was the man who raised her mother for her entire life.

I am really glad that I will be able to attend the funeral, I think my step-Grandfather would want me to be there.

Can Curses Be Passed On?

Just as I was wondering what I was going to blog about today I wandered over to Laziest Girl's blog to see what she was up to. Tragically, I was tagged, so here goes:

How many books do you own?
Good golly! Like I have a clue. My book shelf is 5' high by 8' long by 1' deep, and is packed pretty full, so I'm going to have to go with 40 square feet of books. DANG! I think I have a few books. Shesh. Tragically, they are all packed up now, in preparation for the blissful escape from the hole in which I currently dwell.

What was the last book you bought?
I think it may have been Uncle Tom's Cabin (Harriet Beecher Stowe), that or Slaughterhouse Five (Kurt Vonngut). I've been planning on picking up a copy of Howl by Allen Ginsberg for the past week, so maybe I'll get around to that. Actually, I just remembered, I picked up a copy of Ant The Definitive Guide and Eclipse Cookbook both by Steve Holzner a couple of weeks ago. Does this question apply to programming books?

What was the last book you read?
Last Wednesday my roommate left her copy of The Chosen by Chaim Potok on the kitchen table. I spent the evening devouring it. Wow. What an amazing read! I'm thinking about picking up The Promise later this week, (probably when I grab a copy of Howl).

Other than that, I'm constantly reading The Bible and The Book of Mormon. Since I'm teaching Sunday School again I'm actually doing the reading, which means I'm also in the midsts of The Doctrine and Covenants. Since those are all cannon do they count?

What are five books that have meant a lot to you?
Well, I could knock three or four out by claiming scripture, but I'll limit that and actually stretch myself:
1) Scripture. The Bible, The Book of Mormon, The Doctrine and Covenants, and The Pearl of Great Price. Honestly, God's Word has a way of changing a person.

2) Utopia, Thomas Moore

3) Uncle Tom's Cabin, Harriet Beecher Stowe

4) Crime and Punishment, Fyodor Dostoevsky

5) The Complete Works of e. e. cummings, e. e. cummings

6) The Da Vinci Code, Dan Brown (just kidding! I've never read it, and don't really plan to, for that matter)

Harder Than I Thought

Mumsy called me this morning and sounded perfectly awful. When she managed to tell me why she was calling so early I was shocked. My step-Grandfather had died sometime last night. Happy Freaking Father's Day to us. She didn't know when the funeral is going to be, but would let me know when she found out. I was in shock. I knew he was old, and was going to die, eventually. I guess sometimes we just think they are going to last forever. He was my last living grandparent, and I kept meaning to write to him, or call him. I guess it's too late for that, now. I did write him, occasionally, but I wonder how much of it he really understood. I wonder if it did any good at all.

After I hung up with Mumsy I just started sobbing. I don't know why I have taken it so hard. Then, I had to go to church. I didn't make it through the opening hymn before I had to leave and get a tissue. I taught Sunday School, the lesson was on Doctrine and Covenants 88:118 "seek ye diligently and teach one another words of wisdom; yea, seek ye out of the best books words of wisdom; seek learning, even by study and also by faith." We had a really good discussion, eventually talking about how important it is to gain knowledge in this life. More importantly, however, we need to not judge people because they don't have knowledge, whether that knowledge is secular or religious. My step-Grandfather was two things, (1) a Southern Baptist; and (2) an old farmer who had no need for "book learning". Ironically, these two things place him squarely in both categories. He was a great man, however. To me he really exemplified so many Christian values, the biggest one being love. He seemed capable of loving anyone and everyone, and overlooking their flaws. He wasn't a complex man, but he didn't need to be.

I have spent the majority of the day being sad. I went through a pint of sorbet (that crap's expensive), and phone calls to most of my siblings. I really should have called my youngest sister, I'm sure she needs the love right now, but I'm too busy being broken up about it to want to comfort her. How selfish am I? Perhaps I'll call her tomorrow when the pain has dulled a little bit.

Leveling the Playing Field

I was sitting in the cafeteria today when I glanced up and was shocked to see a familiar face strolling past. This guy and I had worked together back in my Pizza Slinging days. He's very attractive -- at first. Unfortunately, his cocky attitude, and prickish nature quickly remove most of his attractiveness. What was he doing working at BigNameCompany? He wasn't studying computers. Then it occurred to me, there are a lot of different jobs at BigNameCompany -- he wasn't, necessarily, a software engineer.

As we were leaving the cafeteria I remembered his name, ROTCBoy (Reserve Officer Training Corpse). I rushed back to my desk and looked him up on the company directory. Sure enough, he was working in the financial department as an auditor. Hmm... The funny thing is, as soon as I was sure he was making less money than I am I was completely satisfied. I hope he saw me and looks me to only to learn how much money I'm making.

Now, it's not all about money, but it sure is nice to know that I'm making more than those people who think they have it made.

The End, Explained

Recently I was at a meeting and ended up sitting next to one of my coworkers. Since it was just the two of us we were stuck talking to each other. He said something, which caused me to mention ExOfNote. (He seems to be on my mind a lot as of late.) The context required the "ex-fiancè" reference.

"Your ex-fiancè? What happened?"

"I'm Mormon. He wasn't." Instead of the typical, 'Ahhhhh' that statement seems to illicit here in the Bubble I was greeted with polite silence as he waited for me to continue.

I went on, "I think the real kicker was when he said to me one night, 'I can handle my wife being Mormon. I can even handle my kids being Mormon.' That was a huge deal for him," I explained, "since he was really devout in his faith. Then he continued, 'But I don't think I could handle me being Mormon.' It was at that moment that I knew it couldn't happen. I mean, what a huge sacrifice he was willing to make to be with me. But, it wasn't enough. I couldn't ask him to give me more than he had offered, and, I couldn't take less than that. That was pretty much the end of things. Not right away, but eventually."

"How long ago did it end?" He asked softly.

I laughed a bit sadly, "We broke up a year ago last Valentine's Day."

He managed the usual response I get from that, "Well, if you believe in something that strongly, it's great that you live those convictions."

Yeah, but he's not that one still in love with the totally wrong person. I suppose I should be over it by now; but I still love ExOfNote, despite everything.

Workin' It

BigNameCompany has a fitness center on campus (yes, it has enough buildings that we call it campus) which is free for employees to use. Employees also have 24/7 access to said fitness center. Since my semester has finally (just about) ended I decided to sign up for access on Tuesday. Last night I went for the first time.

Turns out I was completely correct in believing that it would be nearly empty at 9pm. Not enough people live near enough to campus to want to come back in the evenings after going home. I figure peak usage runs from 6am - 7pm, with a spike around lunch time. Well, whatever works for people. Being all alone in the gym is a whole lot more up my alley, thankyouverymuch!

So, I got to the gym, exercised, and then, 'cause I was rank, I took a shower. I didn't, however, bother to put any make-up back on, or brush or dry my hair.

You can imagine, then, how I looked when I pulled up to my house I saw TheModel crossing the street to his place. I hollered at him, and he came over and talked to me at my car for 10 minutes, or so. Finally, I said, "I need to park, but I still want to talk to you." So, I parked, and he sat on his fence and waited for me.

We talked until almost 1am, then decided to call it a night. I learned a lot about him, including the fact that he actually did use to be a model. Frankly, I'm not surprised. I suppose he learned a lot about me, too. Actually, he learned more about me than I generally tell people. I don't know what it is about some people. I have found that with a select few people I can have a totally fine surface relationship, but then, in quiet moments, when we cease being our facade, we revel in who we are, and share that which is most intimate. We truly talk. Now, I'm not saying TheModel and I are going to suddenly be soul mates, or even best of friend. What I am saying is, I want to find a man who brings that out in me. Someone I can be myself with, my whole self. I want someone with whom I can be the stupid facade and the intimately exposed whenever I need either one.

That reminds me of a poem I once wrote. I think I wrote it not only for the man I was with at the time (ExOfNote), but for the man who could possibly be my future:

My soul
stands

naked

before you.
Unclothed.
And waiting
for criticism
which
     never
comes.

Freaks of Nature

My father's hobby is quite and interesting one. He's a professional clown. My mum joins in with him quite frequently as a face painter. Cool. It works for them, so whatever. However, Mumsy just told me that she and my dad are going to be attending this workshop. What the??? Uh... yeah, don't bother to sign me up for that one!

Patriot Act in the News

As I was writing the previous post I quickly googled the Patriot Act. I had great timing, Google News told me, Newsday had just published an article entitled, "House Votes to Limit Patriot Act Rules." Basically, the House voted to limit the extent to which the federal government could gain access to public library usage.

Thankfully some Republicans are seeing, at least in part, the horror that is the Patriot Act. Not all, however. Attorney General Alberto Gonzales seems to think it's not extensive enough. From the article you didn't read, "When asked whether the administration would agree to exclude library and medical records from the law, Gonzales demurred. 'It should not be held against us that we have exercised restraint,' he said." I suppose he would rather it be held against them that they went on a Witch Hunt, and ended up imprisoning anyone who had a wart on their nose.

I wonder in 10 years what historians will call this era of McCarthyism. Will it be "W-ism"? "Bushism"? (Blogger spell check suggested 'Fascism' as a replacement word for that last one. Interesting.) Instead of "The Red Scare" will we call it "The Muslim Scare"? Will history remember us as an overly paranoid people who did nothing to stop to atrocities we witnessed, and only encouraged them?

Activists Among Us

My roommate came home last night and asked me if I had "seen that guy on Center Street who wears the camouflaged jacket and carries a sign that reads 'this Mormon is anti-Bush'."

No, no I hadn't. I had, however seen the chubby college-aged homeless kid who seems to always be sitting in doorways and window stoops all along Center Street. Was that the guy?

Nope. Then she proceeded to tell me that a guy she knows stopped him and asked what was going on. He explained that he was from the East Coast and was out here trying to gain support for what boiled down to an Anti-Patriot Act movement. "Why," I asked her, "does he think that standing on Center Street is going to make a lick of difference." Now, as you read these words you must be wondering what kind of political activist doesn't know the answer to that question. Simply put, and inactive one. I have political opinions, and I follow current events and politics, and if anyone ever wants to talk about said issues, I'm more than happy to do so. I also vote responsibly and not just for who has the better looking press secretary. However, I don't get in people's faces about politics (unless it's my father, or otherwise deserved). I expect them to respect my politics and treat them likewise.

I have, however, for years wondered how people get involved in protests and movements and such. Mainly because those are things that I might be interested in getting involved with.

Take the Patriot Act, for example, is one of the single most un-American, unconstitutional, horrific laws passed in the last 10 years. I can't believe that Republicans are the ones who are behind this abhorrent thing. I guess the belief that "smaller is better, when it comes to the government" is only true when discussing issues such as gun control.

My roommate explained the logic behind this man's visit to Utah County thusly, while I might not be the type of person who would stop and talk to him, I am the type of person who would get involved with such a movement. The type of people who would stop to talk to him, however, are the type of people who would be able to help organize the movement on a local level, and see that people like me do eventually get involved. Ah ha!

Will I get involved with this man? With this movement? I can't really say either way right now. What I can say, however, is that I despise the very concept of the Patriot Act, and will do everything I think is morally right to prevent it from gaining a stronger foothold, and to remove it. There is nothing Patriotic about McCarthyism.

The Middle Name From Hell

MyBoss just walked by my office and cheerfully greeted me, "Good Morning, Granola-Jean!"
"Uh, good morning MyBoss."

Why is it that whenever people learn my middle name they suddenly feel the need to call me by it? I don't call him MyTallBoss. I don't call TheModel by TheHotModel. The reason is simple, my mother hated me at birth and, thus, as retribution for being born she gave me the most usable middle name ever. The kicker, of course, is that the middle name suddenly takes my normal sounding name and makes it painfully Southern. If I were Southern I doubt I would have a problem with that. I, however, am not from the South, nor any part like unto it. Thus, others find "Granola-Jean" all the more entertaining.

Yet Another Vice

I have a problem. Fortunately, that problem has a name: Bath and Body Works.

While not this is not a blatant ad, it may certainly appear to be one. I'd apologize, but I'm not sorry.

Saturday a friend of mine came to town and we hit the mall (much to my chagrin). Then, I happened to wander into Bath and Body Works. It's not like I needed any more hand lotion (actually, body cream), but I certainly wanted some. In my office, as of Friday night, I already had 3-8 oz tubes of different scents of body cream from there (Rice Flower and Shea, Mango Mandarin, and Gardenia Lily since you asked), and a 6.9 oz tub of Body Butter from The Body Shop (Passion Fruit). The later of the list I almost never use and feel terrible that my roommate bought it for me only to leave it lying around.

In addition to all those, I have some junk hand lotion (Suave, I think *cringe*, and something else which while not an overly pleasant smell is also not overly unpleasant) which never gets used, some Lay It On Thick (I swear by this stuff -- I use it most nights on my feet to keep them smooth) and some random hand lotion (also never used) that ExOfNote's mom gave me for Christmas two years ago.

I also always carry a small tube of lotion with me in my purse or bag. I have two trial size (1.7 oz) containers that I refill from the larger tubes (Mango Mandarin and Gardenia Lily), and another scent that I bought on whim (are we surprised) called Honey & Shea. For the record, my little container is much cuter than the one in the link. I love this stuff, too.

Thus, one might surmise, there is no way I need any more lotions, etc. There, however, one would be painfully wrong. When all was said and done I was rather pleased with my purchases. They are as follows:

• Honey & Shea Body Balm – Smooth on legs after shaving. Wow. That's heavenly!
• Lemongrass Mandarin Aromatherapy Hydrating Body Cream – I think this one may be going out of stock (couldn't find a picture of it) but, DANG, it smells delic. (Oh, and it's "energizing" -- gotta love aromatherapy)
• Verbena & Lemon Energizing Shower Gel – While you're seeing a pattern here, rest assured, I just like the scents.
• Honey & Shea Shower Gel – This one is a viable pattern to see.
• Room Freshener – for my car. I actually got two of these, one Creamy Nutmeg and the other French Vanilla.

Oh yeah, I have a problem. At least (we all hope) I don't smell funky!

CYA?

"Hey, Granola. I wanna run something by you." He said as he walked in my office, closed the door, and sat down in the chair across from me. What have I done? I wondered. "Someone told me that there may be some friction on the team and I was wondering if you had seen anything?"

"Huh?"

MyBoss went on to ask if I had noticed if there was friction between anybody and what was up. I said the only friction I had noticed is between two of the guys, and I think that they just delight in pulling pranks on each other, and I think it's perfectly harmless. We talked about that for a while, and how whom ever told him that there might be tension didn't really give him any helpful information, like names or actions, etc. After a bit he said, "And, are you feeling any tension or anything?"

"You mean because I'm a girl?"

Smile, "Uh, yeah."

"Nope. Everything's fine."

"Good. I wasn't really all that worried about you. You can hold your own with any of those guys."

"Yeah, but thanks for asking."

Then he left. The more I get to thinking about it, the more I wonder if he hadn't started the whole thing as a way to ask me if things were ok. I kind of want to tell him that while I appreciate his concern, I'm doing just fine. However, it's nice to know that he wants to insure that I feel completely comfortable. The nice thing is, because of his efforts I know that I can go to him with out fear of backlash. Yeah, that's nice.

Degradation Of Women

Today at lunch we were discussing Pop-Culture. FamilyMan mentioned the new show "Beauty and the Geek" and wanted to know if we had seen it. No, but I was curious what it was all about. He proceeded with a plot outline. At first it sounded funny. The women are just stupid, but stunning and the geeks are completely socially inept and, well, true geeks. Sounds all well and good. As he continued it started sounding more and more like the brain child of a bunch of guys who couldn't get an ugly woman to spit on them if they were on fire. Finally I said what was on my mind, "Ahh, the degradation of women is back in the main stream!" Responses to that included, "Finally! Back where they belong. On prime-time." "And off of pay-per-view." The comments got a bit over the top, and I was reaching my (figurative) boiling point. Well, had the comments been serious I would have passed my boiling point long before they died off. After a bit of this I put the cup I had been drinking from down on the table a bit too hard. I looked over at OfficeNeighbor who was, by far, the worst offender. Carnivore said, "Uh oh. Granola is starting to rethink her position on gun control." OfficeNeighbor mimicked me bringing a handgun to work and said, "Come Monday, I'm just going to let my Glock do the talking." "Well," I admitted, "I am starting to rethink my position on pacifism."

The irony of this is two fold: (1) MyBoss wasn't there to witness the exchange (which you'll understand when you read the next post); and (2) For some reason this sort of thing is perfectly acceptable when all parties understand it is a joke, but if in six months I decide to be offended BigNameCompany could have a massive law suit on their hands. The guys, however, are never allowed to be offended if I make 'dumb male' comments (which, I've done).

Not Vegan, But Close. Ish

Allow me to start today's blog with too much information. I'm lactose intolerant, and I think I'm ovo intolerant. Additionally, I don't eat much meat, and that meat which I do eat tends to be more along the lines of chicken. These facts have not escaped the note of my coworkers, and they understand that while I am not vegan I do eat a mainly vegan/vegetarian diet.

With that information, read on. Yesterday was Carnivore's birthday, so we all went out for lunch today to celebrate. While we were standing in the hall trying to decide where to go Carnivore suggested, "Why don't we go to Tucanos?" We all laughed and someone asked, "What about Granola?" "They have a salad bar," Carnivore offered. Now, since the article we all know you just read didn't give you a price list, allow me: it runs $20-ish for lunch, I think; and, since it's a buffet sort of thing, there isn't an I'll-just-have-salad price option. This lead to a discussion on what else I could eat whilst there. One of the guys suggested that I could also have some of the roasted pineapple. Thanks guys. We ended up heading to a burger joint we've eaten at before (they make a killer (ha ha) Boca Burger).

It's really kind of fun how they tease me, but in the end always make sure that there is something I'll be willing to eat there. I think MyBoss is the most 'protective' of me in that regard, though I'm hesitant to use the word protective. We'll laugh with everyone, but for just a second he'll catch my eye and with a questioning expression make sure that the place up for discussion is going to be ok for me. It's funny. It happens the same way every time. Someone will start out by suggesting some place, we'll get into a big discussion on the options and, just before we settle on it, MyBoss will catch my eye questioningly, I'll either give him the yeah-totally-o.k. nod, or the uh-no-way shake. If it's the uh-no-way shake he'll suggest something else. Wash, rinse, and repeat. The funny thing is, I think I have said 'no' to just one place. In fact, the last time we went out we ended up at Beto's, a place I have historically described as "a greasy Mexican joint. Uh, the food is greasy, not the Mexicans." I'm also convinced that if they had fruit salad it would come with meat. I ordered chicken. A fact that did not go unnoticed.

At first it seems kind of strange that a group of guys care about the dining habits of one person, but they really do. However, it's not that odd, in thinking about it. If one person in the group has different diet restrictions people tend to be very conciensious about it. If it happens to be a choice (as long as they aren't overly annoying about it - a la "I'm better than you because I don't eat meat") people tend to be even more eager to help them maintain that conviction. That, or get them to break it. However, since every single person on my team shares the same dining/drinking restriction by choice they are much more willing to help me keep my additional ones. A fact which I really appreciate.

A Great Day For Up (With Apologies To Dr. Seuss)

As soon as I got to work this morning I knew it was going to be a great day. I had a prime parking spot, because I was right. on. time. (I've just not been feeling it this week) Oh yeah! When I sat at my desk I logged into my Linux box and had no pressing tasks pop up, then I logged into my Windows machine and saw I had one missed instant message from (drum roll here, please) SuperHotFormerCoworker. It was simple, direct, and to the point, "Rumor has it you're looking for me." He wasn't on, so I didn't answer. When he did log on later we had a great talk. Good golly, I miss our talks. He also gave me his gmail address so I can email him (rather text him -- which he hates, or send emails to his never checked hotmail account).

In addition to that, I solved a HUGE problem at work, much to my pride. Yeah, that's taken me only 3 or 4 days. Grrr.

See, a great day for up!

I Am Womyn, Hear Me Roar

Today MyBoss almost slipped up again and called me Granoly. We've covered this, and he knows that calling me Granoly is hazardous to his health, so he doesn't do it. Every now and again, however, he gets mighty close.

He caught himself, and apologized. Later I asked, "So, what's up with calling me Granoly?"

"I have a cousin named Granola, and she goes by Granoly. The only time I ever heard her called Granola was when she was in big trouble. 'Granola Smith!'"

"Her last name is Smith?"

"Yeah."

"That's funny, my family always teases me about marrying a guy with the last name of Smith."

Quizzical expression.

"Because, my middle initial is 'A', which leads to funny initials. Nowadays, I'd just have every thing monogrammed!" Ok, so if you know me you know what those real initials are, and the first letter of the last name in question. You'll also know that the result of my initials at that point are much more entertaining (and slightly more offensive) than 'GAS'. In fact, the closest example with out giving away all my secrets I can think of is my friend Andrea Sharon, who wants to marry a 'Smith'.

We laughed, and then he said, "Huh. I figured you'd be the kind of woman who went by her own last name, even after she was married."

"Really? Why do you think that?"

"Because of ... uh..." I should note that I had an idea of what he was going to say, but, I wanted to hear him say it, "Uh, the whole feminist thing."

"Because I'm a 'militant feminist'?" I rescued him, just as he was getting up the nerve.

I laughed. Then I revealed something I wasn't sure I wanted to reveal. Which is to say, I told him more than I thought I would be telling my boss, but it was relevant, and he didn't ask any more about it, so that was good.

"Actually," I told him, "my ex-fiancé and I talked about that." Breathe Mom. Breathe. ExOfNote and I were never formally engaged; actually, we were never informally engaged. What we were was talking about things, and semantics. However, that was even more detail than I wanted to go into with my boss. Generally speaking, when discussing things that pertain to how serious our relationship was, etc, I feel at liberty to describe him as my ex-fiancé. I think that after five years of dating and seven years of being in love and six years knowing that if either of us was less stubborn we'd be married, I have every right to call him that.

I went on to explain the compromise that had been suggested by ExOfNote before I fully communicated to him that I would be taking his last name if/when that became a real issue. ExOfNote thinks hyphenating last names is generally lame, unless, the woman is older or well established in her field where changing her last name might have interesting side-effects. However, he understands how sometimes women are attached to their last names. His suggestion, therefore, was not only unique, but rather sweet, I think. He proposed a name swap. The end result would be, I would become Granola Note, and he ExOfGirl. Like I said, unique and sweet. I didn't say anything about being brilliant. I quickly reassured him that I would rather we be Mr. and Mrs. Note, thus guaranteeing any children would be little Notes, not Girl-Note or Note-Girl or anything else heinous.

After hearing this MyBoss thought about it. Then said, "Huh. So you wouldn't keep your last name?"

No. Honestly, I think that's one of the lamest thing feminists do. Some womyn get so wrapped up in that ideal that they view the changing of their last name to a sign of servitude, or subjugation, rather than realizing that it symbolizes their union -- that they have become one. Ok, fine, it is kind of lame that we (as a society) expect women to change their last names, and not men. But there is no rule that says that he can't.

Thus, I once again affirm, I shall become Granola HisLastName upon the fateful day I actually get around to getting married. Unless, of course, his last name is lacking vowels, or has more that two in a row…

Forgetting Who I Am

I've decided the guys have finally started to think of me not as a girl, but as a regular guy. Frankly, it's nice to be back in that oh so comfortable spot. I hate it when I'm thought of as a girl in situations where it's better to be one of the guys because that usually means I'm treated differently. I don't want to be treated differently, thankyouverymuch.

I offer, as proof of my supposition, the following two events:

(2) A few weeks ago I was sitting in my office while four of the guys sat in OfficeNeighbor's office (including OfficeNeighbor). As I was trying to focus on my work I was constantly distracted by their laugher which seemed to be getting louder and louder. Finally, MyBoss poped his head over into my office and asked, "Hey, Granola, do you have a middle name?" "Yes, yes I do." "What street did you grow up on?" In that instant I knew what was so funny, "My Stripper Name?" "No, your Porn Star Name." Like that's inherently better! We all laughed, and I revealed nothing. Honestly, none of us wanted them thinking of me in terms of my Porn Star Name. Sheesh.

And then --

(2) Today after lunch we were walking back into the office and through the ever looming revolving doors. GoteeBoy's brother has just started working for BigNameCompany so he eats lunch with us most days. The group today was seven people strong. GoteeBoy, GoteeBoy'sBrother, FamilyMan, OfficeNeighbor, myself, MyBoss, and another guy for whom I really need to think up a name. FamilyMan reached the revolving door first, followed by GoteeBoy and his brother. When they all got close enough GoteeBoy'sBrother pushed GoteeBoy into the triangle of the revolving door along with FamilyMan. Not to let the opportunity pass OfficeNeighbor did likewise to the other guy for whom I need to think up a name. I was next to approach the door, followed lastly by MyBoss. As I walked it a part of me hoped he would jump on in with me -- let's face it, that's kind of funny, and I wanted in on the fun. However, more of me hoped he wouldn't, just to spare us both the she's-a-girl-he's-a-guy-what-are-they-doing? thing. So, I watched him in the reflection of the door. Mostly relieved when we both had our own triangles to walk in. As he walked out I turned to him and, with a smile, said, "Thanks." "I thought about it." he replied, smiling back. "I know." We laughed and went upstairs. See... He's having to force himself to remember, and that, my friends, is a wonderful thing.

Fruit Fly

In addition to all of the sub-cultures I belong to, there is one that really sets me apart from the majority of the people in Provo. I am a 'fruit fly' or 'fag hag' if you prefer. Personally, I think the term 'fruit fly' is a whole lot less offensive, and a much more low-key term. Since those who fall into this category aren't exactly looking to be out-ed anytime soon, and most people here don't have a clue what that term might mean, it's probably better that I stick with it.

sadly, my fruit fly-ness is worse than most, as my fruits have actually dated me. I can see you want proof. Allow me:
N - straight, but so effeminate his mother once asked him if he was gay. Oh, and we never dated, but he was madly in love with me for years.
P - dated him for four months. The sad part is, I knew he was struggling with his sexuality. In the two years since we dated he has since quit the struggle, and is now pursuing his friend J.
L - didn't know we were dating until we weren't any more. 3 weeks in this one. He is so flamming gay I wish he would just face it himself. Someday, hopefully. Then he can start patching his life together.
C - announced he was Bi when we first met. Never really dated, but had extended flirtations. After we stopped seeing each other he announced he was straight. My favorite thing he ever said, "I consider myself to be attracted to people, not plumbing." Oh, sexy.

Now, that's only four, you're telling yourself, and the first one doesn't really count, so that makes three. Agreed. However, ask yourself, how many gay men have you known, much less dated, in Provo? (This question doesn't count if you, yourself, are a gay man. Sorry.)

My only question is this: What is it about me that these guys find attractive enough to date? Am I really that Butch?

Adventures In House Hunting

I have decided to buy a house. I am tired of renting, tired of living in student housing. And, really tired of not being able to call a plumber whenever I feel the slightest urge. Oh, I'm also tired of these damn white walls I'm not allowed to paint.

I have been house shopping for close to 6 weeks now, and any appeal it started with is completely gone. Every Saturday (after cello lessons) I head out to some new "Master Plan Community" and walk through model homes. The last little while has taken me out to Lehi/Eagle Mountain area. For the most part my visits have been pleasant enough, and I've learned that I really am insanely picky.

On the 14th I had this experience, and really wish I could say it was the only time I have been incorrectly analyzed. Sadly, that's not the case (if it were, this blog entry wouldn't exist, so there we have it).

Above everything, however, these two experiences really stand out to me:

The first one for humor:
1) Last week when I went out there I went to a model home, and was having a lovely chat with the young man who was about to show me a home. He asked what were somethings I was looking for in a home, and I told him that I would love to find a Green Builder (the link is just an example). He asked what that was and (since I'm sure you're wondering, too) I told him, "It's kind of this tree hugger thing. Environmentally friendly, use cotton based insulation instead of fiberglass, that sort of thing." This led to an interesting discussion on the motivations behind building green. Then, we started looking over floor plans when he showed me one, pointing out that a small family room is in straight eye sight from the kitchen. "Which is really nice," he added, "because the kids can be in here watching T.V. or whatever, and you can be cooking and keep and eye on them." I didn't inform him that I didn't have kids, and didn't really take offense, let's face it, were in Utah, and I drive a frickin' minivan! Later he asked if I had a husband, "nope." Ahh, ok then. Let's go take a look at the house. As we walked out to the parking lot he saw my van, "Is that yours?" he asked.
"Yup."
"Did you say you have kids?"
"No. I don't."
"Oh, ok."
So, we went out to the model he was going to show me, and after looking at the entire house we ended up in the master bedroom. "This room is really nice," he informed me, "it's big. Nice for one person. Or, uh, two." Yeah, me and my equally mother-earthy female life-partner. I laughed internally. I guess people just can't wrap their minds around a single female looking to buy a home, all by herself.

Experience number two is notably much less funny:
2) Today I walked into a home that I really wasn't feeling. The price seemed a whole lot high for the kind of home I was looking at. It was just kind of blahhh. I was interested to know if the builder had more interesting homes, so I asked they guy that was there about their homes. We were discussing things when I picked up a fact sheet about one on the homes. "Now, this one is our largest two story home. It is a little out the price range you mentioned, but it comes with a five car garage."
Cue shocked expression. "Who the Hell needs a five car garage!?"
Laugh. "Are you married?"
"No."
"A man does. A man needs a five car garage!" It should be pointed out that this was said in a slightly more than condescending manner.
"Well, I wear the pants in my family. And I don't need a five car garage!"
As you can imagine, that pretty much ended any house selling experience right there.

A man needs a five car garage - my eye!

Highlights

Complete stranger I'm meeting for the first time: Oh! I love your hair! Who does your highlights?"

Me: "God."

Half-Naked Hot Boys. Why Does This Bother Me?

My indie-rocker roommate and I have vastly differing taste in men. Shocking, I know. Where she likes indie-rockers I go for the insanely unattainably beautiful side of the spectrum. I don't like men who could slap on some lipstick and pass for women, but I do like beautiful men. Oh, and hunky men. Nicely toned muscles do it for me every time.

Needless to say, in this case, the hot boys across the street I am crushing over do positively nothing for her. Thursday night we were talking when she announced, "Oh, Granola, you missed it. The boys across the street were doing yard work in just their shorts. They were so hot, you could see the blades of grass clinging to their sweaty muscles as they rippled in the sun." Let's ignore for a minute that she sounded like she was reading from a Danielle Steel novel and focus on what I was missing. Hello! Ok, in all actuality, I probably would have been majorly embarrassed to see them with out their shirts on. Not that I wouldn't enjoy the initial eye candy, but from previous experience (see the next paragraph), I would have been amazingly uncomfortable.

Last week, for example, I had to return a cookie sheet that we had borrowed from The Boys. I went over there, rang the door bell, and waited. When one of them came to the door he was in just his shorts. I was so surprised and embarrassed that I held the cookie sheet up between us and said, "Oh! HotBoy! That was more of you that I wanted to see!"

In retrospect, I should have enjoyed the moment for what it was worth, instead of making him self-conscious about the whole thing (which I apparently did).

Miracles Really Never Do Cease

The Unthinkable has happened. Last night when I got home from work there was no sludge in the tub. I was in shock. How could that be possible? Perhaps, I reasoned, my roommate got tired of it and took matters into her own hands. (Up until Tuesday I had been cleaning the tub on a daily basis. That stopped when it became vial sludge.)

When my other roommate got home I asked her about it. Did Landlord come by? What was up? Actually, she told me, a plumber came by. And, wouldyoubelieveit, the sink and the shower both drain! A wonderful addition is the fact that nothing burbles up in the tub when the sink is running.

I showered in my own shower this morning, for the first time in a week. It was heavenly.

Diva Training

TheModel and I sat on his steps talking. The cute girl next door (who has a quadrillion times better chance with him as I) was on her second floor balcony shouting down at us, flirting with him. He flirted back saying, "You know, 'Diva Training' is starting up again, now that I'm back!" She laughed. I turned to him, moderately pouty and said, "I want 'Diva Training'." He agreed, but warned me it might involve a hair cut. "That's fine, as long as it doesn't involve dying it." Oh, that, he said, might be necessary, too. I asked what he would do to my hair, color-wise.

Let's pause for a moment. One of the few things that I am absolutely vain about is my hair. It is a beautiful copper color with amazingly natural highlights. I have never dyed it, and don't plan to start this summer. I don't care how hot TheModel is, or how good he thinks it would look. Somethings you change when trying to get a guy's attention, my hair color is not one of those things for me.

Back to the story. He told me "We might need to add some red. Really bring it out." Yeah, whatever. I told him that wasn't going to happen. He replied, with mock offense, "Excuse me? Who is the Master here? And, who is the Project? That's what I thought!" "I prefer the term protege." "Again, Master," indicating himself, "Project," indicating me.

If he's serious about doing it, I might go along. I've been thinking about doing something different with my hair, and having a guy who is so in touch with that side of things helping me out might be a lot of fun. Hmmm... I wonder...

That's The Thing About Granola

Last night as I sat flirting with TheModel and SurferBoy they were teasing me about a guy I used to date -- their landlord. Now, it's been years since we dated, and we dated for only about three weeks, but, still, it happened. So, last night SurferBoy was giving me a hard time about it, so (in complete jest) I flipped him off. They both started laughing and then TheModel said, "That's the thing about Granola. You never know what's up with her. One minute she may give you one of these," (insert the bird) "and the next she'll be, like, 'So, at church we were talking about..." We all started laughing, and I think I turned a bit red. I might not have, had it not been so true.

My (Secret) Boyfriends Are Back

Tuesday morning as I was leaving for work I noticed a rather distinctive SUV parked across the street from me. If I wasn't mistaken, that SUV belonged to none other than SurferBoy. I was rather surprised, since I was told he had moved home to California, for good. As I pulled away I glanced at the license plate in my rear-view mirror, sure enough: California. Well, I reasoned, perhaps he came out to visit his old roommates for the holiday and would be leaving during the day.

When I got home from work the same SUV was parked across the street, but it had been cleaned. Hmm... I then talked myself into believing that it was not SurferBoy. No way could it be. He was done with Provo.

Later that night I had to go up to campus to do some homework. As I walked towards my van I glanced at the house across the street (where SurferBoy lived) and noticed that he was sitting on the steps. I'm convinced he didn't see me notice him because all I saw of him was the top of his head (red hair -- kind of noticeable). So, I kept walking, opened my car door, and just as I was about to get in I heard, "Hey!"

I turned and looked, and there, waving back at me, was not only SurferBoy, but Jude Law's long lost brother (TheModel). I walked over to talk to them. We sat around shooting the breeze for an hour. Mostly we talked about why they came back, and how good it was to see each other.

The funny thing about TheModel is how we never really got to know each other, but still felt like we knew each other anyway. The first time we really talked we spent an hour or two just talking. We talked about everything and nothing. Occasionally, when we'd see each other, we'd talk some more, but we didn't really spend much time together. We always flirted when we saw each other.

The day he left for California I happened to be headed somewhere and I stopped him to ask what he was up to. We talked for a bit, said our good byes, and hugged farewell. It was a great hug. Oh, and he smelled divine (Diesel: Masculine, in case you care). When we hung out last night we hugged goodbye again. I think I could get used to hugging him. Actually, this gives me an evil idea -- at work we frequently talk about having a team activity outside of work. I assume such activities will involve spouses and families. I'm not planning on showing up alone, so, I think I shall invite TheModel to go with me. I don't know if I like him more than SurferBoy, but, well, I think he'd be more game for it.

The great thing about those boys is we all know I don't have a snowball's chance with them, and we're perfectly ok just flirting.