Wrong Number, Part Dos

Remember that wrong number from Christmas Day? Last night I got a message on my machine that goes like this, "lots of background noiseI love you, Granola. more background noise." Creepy!!!

Snowboarding, And, Why I Shouldn't

Saturday some friends wanted to go snowboarding. Having never done so before I was a bit hesitant, but excited. I've been wanting to learn for the past few years. So, I agreed. At the end of the day we ended up with MapGuy, a female friend of his, the little brother of a mutual friend of theirs, the super-cute kid (he's not even 21 yet...) to whom I am totally attracted, and the amazing! girl he's madly in love with (who, tragically, does not reciprocate). I've been hanging out with them a ton, but haven't mentioned them too much because I'm having issues coming up with blog names for them. Dancer, as I shall call her, left this morning for BYU-land, so yesterday was a farewell for her.

Neither Dancer nor I know how to snowboard, so our friend was going to teach us both. We rented our gear, ate some lunch, and made our way up to the ski lift. I had some issues walking after I got my foot clipped into the board. As an aside, since I had no idea, either: When one snowboards you first clip in your non-dominant foot, then walk by pushing the board with one foot and kind of baby-stepping it along. Not surprisingly, I sucked at this. Eventually, I made it up to the lift, jumped on, and rode to the top. At the top I made the lift operator stop the thing so I could get off. I fell.

I managed to hobble myself out of the way, and stand up. After working my way over to my friends I decided it was time to strap my other foot in. Bad idea. I fell. But I didn't just fall, I fell in that spectacularly glorious way in which I somehow manage to always do. A few stand-up-and-falls, and I was determined to do this! Then, as I was moving to put my foot in the binding I fell again. This time, however, it wasn't just on my butt or knees, instead, it was on my board. Correction, the board turned 180+ degrees and ended up under me. I managed to get it out from under myself before lying back in the snow and declaring, "Owww! Oh, hell that hurts!" I then proceeded to clinch my jaw and work hard on (a) not screaming from the pain; and (2) not crying. I failed at goal number 2.

Everyone asked if I was ok, to which I replied (through gritted teeth) that yes, I was, no, they couldn't do anything for me. Then, Dancer helpfully offered to straighten the board for me. After twisting my knee back completely in the other direction I asked her if it was straight. Not yet, she said, wrenching my knee even more. I wanted so badly to ask her to stop since I was sure she was actually turning it further than it should go in the other direction, but I didn't. Eventually, she got it. I couldn't move and sent everyone down the hill, fully intending to be strapped in and standing by the time they returned.

I did manage to strap in by the time they got back, but hadn't been able to stand, yet. MapGuy's friend suggested that I try standing without the board before going down the hill. I'm glad I did, because I couldn't. Well, I could, it just hurt. A lot. She called for ski patrol.

I got a lovely fun toboggan ride down the mountain, and spent the next two hours on a hard bench waiting for everyone else to finish up so we could go home. Honestly, there was no use in making everyone else miss out on the fun just because I happen to be a walking catastrophe.

When we (ski patrol, and myself) reached the lodge a small crowed instantly formed around me. I'm sure I looked the sight: I was tied into the toboggan, and had a splint strapped to my leg. Lying down, with three medics leaning over me didn't help much either.

Once inside I continued to draw stares. One little boy, around 5 or so, found my predicament fascinating. He couldn't peel his eyes off me as he was guided past. "Listen to your mother." I warned him sternly, "Don't drink and drive." His father quickly whisked him away muttering, "Come on, don't stare." Oh, give me a break. I was just having a bit of fun!

Today I took some pictures and emailed them to Mumsy. Then I called her up and told her that I went snowboarding, and she should check her email for some pictures.

"Did you break your neck?" She demanded.

"No!"

She asked if I had fun. I told her that she needed to see the pictures and I thought that would explain how much fun I had. "Uh, oh." She uttered ominously, "Did you break your leg?"

"No, I didn't break my leg. Just check out the pictures."

"Honey," she called out to my father, "Check my email, I think Gorp broke her leg!"

"I didn't break my leg!!" I insisted.

They opened up the email, and Mumsy gasped. No, I didn't break my leg, but I may have torn something I'll need later in life. And, since you're morbidly curious as well, here you go. Frankly, my biggest concern is that diagonal bruise on the left side of the picture. In the second image you can see how its a bump. I don't have a matching one of the right knee.

I'm going to urgent care tomorrow, where I can get x-rayed, etc (all on 2007's deductible, since I didn't quite reach it in 2006). And people ask why I have the best insurance available. Let me tell you why: Chris Rock once said (to paraphrase), "I call 'insurance' 'incaseshit'. As in 'incaseshit' happens." In my case, it shouldn't be called 'incaseshit', it should be called 'whenshit'. Or maybe 'insureshit' is the right term, as in, I can insureshit will happen, trust me.

Wrong Number

Christmas morning I sent a number of my friends text messages wishing them a Merry Christmas. In fact, the entire text of the message read: "Merry Christmas! -Granola Girl"--deep stuff, that.

Tuesday I got a phone call from one of my friends to whom I had sent a text. I was excited, but unable to answer the phone. Luckily, she left a message. 30 minutes later I was able to pick up my message. Instead of my friend I heard a man's voice, whom, 4 of us quickly determined, sounded inebriated in some fashion. After a number of replays we determined that he said, "Hola. Mi nombre es Alberto." Uh... gee, that's not my (female) friend.

Shortly there after I receive the following text message, "Quien ere que tienes la voz bonita". Which, as we all know, translates roughly as: "Who are you that you have a beautiful voice?" Uh, yeah... are you thinking creepy? 'Cause I am!!

I declined to reply. He, however, is far more persistent that you might think (especially considering that he clearly doesn't speak English). In totally yesterday he called me 7 times, left 3 voicemails (all in Spanish, and one, where we think he might have been singing(what the...?)), and sent me one text message. Gee. After the first 5 times I sent him right to voicemail you'd think he'd learn. Au contraire! Tonight he called me three times.

Um, dude, I dialed a wrong number. I ain't callin' ya back. I think it's time you moved on.

I have decided that if he calls me again tomorrow I'm changing my answering message to say, "Hi! You've reached Granola with the Department of immigration. Please leave me a message at the tone." Assuming, of course, that I'm not with any guys when he calls. If I am, I shall simply have them answer the phone. My Spanish is embarrassingly lousy, and I don't really want to have to explain to him that I'm not interested. I think a male's voice on the phone might be all the explanation that he needs.

Lastly, let's be honest here, if I were all that and a ball of wax, does he really think I'd be sitting at home waiting for some random guy to call me up and ask me out? Honestly, I think I'd be taken, don't you? Sheesh.

As an aside, I do have a nice voice. I'm just not (a) his dream girl; or (b) a 900 number operator. Maybe I should start billing him for the all the time he's wasted...

Gripes

I still have a monstrous crush on Musician. Grrr!

He sent me an article on Wednesday to which I replied that I had a bundle to say on that, and did he want a huge-long email or would he rather we just discuss it in person. His reply? Let's catch up next year. Next year!?! Yes, I know it's only 10 days away. Do you think I care? I want to see him tonight. And, that, friends, really irks me.

Miss Me? Or, Adventures In No Power

Wow. What a week I've had. Unless your my kid sister, or live under a rock, you're probably well aware of the problems we've been having here in the Pacific Northwest. Which is to say: huge wind storm, lots of power outages, and tons of felled trees.

Thursday evening, the night of the wind storm, I was at Network's house and had to run home to work. Unfortunately, I chose to leave at the height of the storm. I really had no business driving, a point that was rapidly driven home when a gust of wind blew my car across three lanes of traffic. I got home, did some work, and turned right around and headed back. Why? you ask, given that I knew the current weather conditions? Frankly, there are times one doesn't want to be home alone. That was one of them.

In total the aftermath in my neighborhood was complete power outage (ok, that pretty much applies to the entire greater Seattle area, excluding, of course, Seattle-proper), approximately 15-or-so felled trees, and, well, no hot water.

I bailed. I spent the greater part of the week at the home of the first counselor in the Bishopric and his wife. Until last night, when their kids started arriving for the holidays. Lurch told me that he thought I had power (his apartment has had it since Sunday night), and so I decided to just go home. I didn't have power. I ended up spending last night at Lurch and LittleBrother's place. It wasn't a big deal, and like anything would ever happen, but I decided that tonight I would spend and Nanny and Sweetheart's place. Lurch agreed with both sentiments. Neither of us really want to ever have to explain to the Bishop why he really shouldn't care that I crashed at their house.

The good bit is: now I am finally having a chance to update my blog. You know you missed me.

Courage

This afternoon I went to Musician's concert and (not surprisingly) ran into him. We chatted briefly when he announced that he was starving. I agreed that I, too, was hungry. He asked what I was doing after the concert and I replied that I would be grabbing some lunch. He asked if I wanted to join him. I did.

On the way to lunch I decided that I would tell him that I am interested in him, and then ask him to join me for an evening at the Symphony.

We sat. He asked, "What's new?"

"I've got tickets to the Symphony," I replied, "that's new."

We talked about that briefly before he asked if I would be attending the Stake New Year's Eve event. I replied that I probably wouldn't as it really doesn't strike my fancy. Then I asked if he would be.

"Nope. I'll be spending the evening with my girlfriend! (As you call her.)"

I asked if he meant 'girlfriend' as in, the girl I have jokingly called his girlfriend, or if he meant really his girlfriend. It was the latter, but apparently, I'm the one who brought the word 'girlfriend' into our "relationship," so he was blaming me.

"Nurse?"

"Yup."

"I thought you broke up?"

"We did. Well, we were on a break."

I told him I don't believe in 'breaks.' A waste of time, those. If I'm ever with a guy who decides he needs a break I think I'll just dump him and save us both the worry. If you've got to take an extended breather to decide if things are worth having, then they probably aren't. Perhaps I'm just bitter because ExOfNote pulled the 'let's-take-a-break' thing on me once, and it sucked.

Anyway, back to Musician: seems he's back together with Nurse, for now. A fairly recent development, I'm sure, but more of a development than I'd like. I could just sit back and wait for the inevitable demise—I'm an optimist—or, I could do the logical thing, and move on with my life and go back to not liking boys all that much. It certainly makes life easier.

The odd bit is: I think I was ready to be in a relationship with him. Perhaps it was just Nature telling me that I'm ready to be in a relationship. period

Freakonomics—A Non-Review

Interesting book. I don't know if I agree with Levitt's postulate that the legalization of abortion (brought about by Roe v. Wade, naturally) caused the decline of crime rates in the 90's. It certainly is provocative, though, isn't it?

Should you read it? Probably. You'll certainly learn something, and it will force you to think things through, especially if you're not pro-choice.

Stupid Symphony

I knew it was going to happen, and I've been looking forward to it since October. The Seattle Symphony is playing Handel's Messiah. Someone at work posted the tickets on the internal classifieds, and, 80 bucks later, they're mine. Holy crap!!

I was thinking about asking Musician, but I don't know what's going on there, and I don't want to come on too strong.

Nanny expressed interest in going, and if I were less selfish than I know I am, I'd give them to Nanny and Sweetheart as a Christmas present (Sweetheart has never heard it, so I don't know if they would be wasted or put to the best use possible, all I do know is: they're $56/each tickets, and I'm not as good of a person as others would like to believe).

Other options: I was thinking of asking Musician to pick me up from the airport tomorrow and on the ride home just tell him how I feel, and if he reciprocates, ask him to join me. If not, well then shrug I'll take FlyBoy. No, I won't. I'll probably take Nanny.

Covert

Here I sit, in the BYU library, covertly logged into their free internet, silently wishing that 12 am PST came earlier when in a different time zone.

Tragically, for all my wishing, it doesn't.

Why am I here? you query.

Because the gods hate me, that's why. Oh, that, and my project can't really afford for me to take tomorrow off. So, I lugged my stupid laptop out to Utah, and hi-jacked BYU's network so I could work. Not only tonight, but tomorrow as well. I'm as thrilled as I could possibly be. 30 more minutes, will I make it?

I just want to go to my hotel and crash. Oh wait, I still don't have a hotel at which to crash. Well, things might get a bit more interesting come morning. Never fear, I can shower on campus if push comes to shove.

Thursday Concert

Musician had organized a Thursday lunch concert (for work), and I was really excited to go! Despite having literally 7 hours worth of meetings that day, I went. I used the 40 minutes I was there to prepare for my next two hours of work. Right near the end I saw her—Musician's ex-girlfriend (who shall forever be immortalized as Nurse). I couldn't believe it! It gave me a whole lot of pause—usually when two people break up the only reason they hang out together is either (a) they both still like each other and want to have another go; or (b) one party is still interested. Which, necessarily, means: I'm jealous. What the crap!? Why? Who cares? He's just a dumb boy. grrrr!

After the concert finished (just one last song) I got up and went to go find her. I couldn't very-well be rude to her. He keeps introducing us, and she really is a nice girl, so I suppose it's in my best interest to play nice. We chatted briefly before I had to run back to work.

Quite the Catch

Lurch, Sweetheart, and I hung out last night. After dinner we decided to walk around the mall (I think we need to come up with slightly more creative pass times).

We went into one store and were joking with the proprietor. At one point I said something to the effect of "That's why I'm not marrying him!" (Ok, ok, we were in a jewelry store, if you must know.)

She laughed and said that surely someone would.

"Oh, no! Definitely!" I came to his immediate support, "He's quite the catch." Then my funny-bone got involved and forced me to say, "...and release!"

We all laughed, me extraordinarily hard, since I had just come up with it!

I apologized profusely to Lurch. He really is quite the catch.

I'd Kiss Ya, But I Just Washed My Hair

Ahh, Bette Davis, you're missed (that's from The Cabin in the Cotton fyi).

One of my coworkers told me about the "First Thursday Art Walk" that apparently happens in downtown. I had heard about it, but wasn't overly keen on going alone. He happened to be going and invited me. I said sure, and there I was.

I called Musician a little after 5 to see if he was interested in going. He mentioned that he has enjoyed it in the past, however, he was going to have to pass, given that he had to do laundry. "I know that sounds like, 'I have to wash my hair,' but, I really do have to do laundry, and if I go I won't get home 'til 9, and I don't really want to stay up until 11 doing laundry."

I would have given him more grief, except Monday night I went over to his house after F.H.E. to borrow a book (Freakonomics, since you asked) and wandered into his room. He needed to do laundry.

The Art Walk was good. I shall go next month. Hopefully.

Stake Desimation

Well, today they decided to reorganize our stake. The end result is we lost 18 members of our ward, 3 girls, and 15 boys. Not that we had that many to lose in the first place. The end result is: most of my friends stay in the ward (all of my close ones do), but the Relief Society has lost the first and second counselor. I live in mortal fear for the day I'm called to be in the Relief Society presidency. Additionally, the RS president (Ninja) turns 31 in January, so she'll be "graduating" and going to the family ward.

In addition to that, Ninja called me tonight to talk about how frustrated she is with the whole finding new counselors thing, and how she is not looking forward to going to the family ward come January. I really didn't know what to tell her. I do wonder why she didn't call her best friend to have this conversation with.

This spells bad news for me. I'm hoping that the nose ring keeps me out of the presidency. I'm afraid, instead, I'll have to buy a nice retainer to wear to church. I wonder how the Bishop will bring that one up?

I can just see it now, "Granola, we'd like to call you to be Relief Society president. Now, before you answer, how do you feel about removing the nose ring?"

Or, "I really admire that you're doing your own thing fashion-wise, but do you think you could do a little less of your own thing nose-wise?"

Or, "Would you turn with me in the 'For the Strength of Youth' pamphlet to the section on earrings?"

Or, "I believe when President Hinkley talked about limiting our earrings to just one modest pair he probably was including extra body-piercing in the group to limit."

Worse, he'll probably just extend the call and hope that I have all of those conversations internally. sigh

Let's hope no call is forthcoming.

Art Jam

Musician told me about this art jam that was going on today at one of the art schools in downtown Seattle. His band happened to be playing. The whole thing sounded like so much fun, I had actually intended to spend the lion's share of the day there. However, car shopping happened, and I arrived at 8. It was amazing! I spent the entire two hours I was there drawing one woman. She has the most interesting lines.

When I first walked in the only open spot I could see required me to walk right in from of him. So, I did. His face really just lit up when he smiled at me. I think it's just his smile, but a small (ok, huge) part of me wants to believe it's me. I think it's just his smile.

Guess who else was there, though? Oh, you won't guess, so I'll just tell you: his ex-girlfriend that I met in October. She's a really nice girl, and is, apparently, still really good friends with him, since she arrived with him. I've got to figure this one out. Oh, and oddly enough, she's been in the area for 14 months and he's been separated for a little better than a year (I'm not sure when the divorce was finalized). Somewhere in that time frame they met, became great friends, dated, broke up, and have managed to maintain a close friendship. I think I'm suffering from jealousy problems.

We chatted for quite a while about art and drawing and generic items when we ran into each other. She took some art classes in high school, apparently, but that was years ago. When I first walked up to her and Musician (they were standing in the hall, and I wanted to talk to him, she happened to be there) he said to her, "Granola is an art-eest."

"A what?" she asked having not heard him.

"An art-eest," he repeated.

You know, the funny thing is I don't know if I consider myself an "artist". I paint and draw, but am I an artist? I don't know.

We eventually returned to the drawing room and took up our respective seats. Afterwards I walked over to her and asked to see her drawings. She showed me, but only after telling me that she hasn't drawn in 10 years. Frankly, they were terrible. She asked to see mine. I'm not thrilled with it, but since I know you're dying of curiosity as well, here it is. Clearly, I didn't finish.

Christmas Tree Shopping

I called Lurch this afternoon and asked if he wanted to take me Christmas tree shopping. He agreed. Once he got here, however, he had changed his mind—he wasn't sure he was sold on the idea of putting a huge tree on top of his car. We went car shopping instead.

And, guess what happened? That's right, I BOUGHT A CAR!!! It's a 2005 Subaru Forester X (sadly, not an XT like I wanted, but we all have to make consessions), gold/green-ish (I'm not in love with the color, but at least it's not the same gold as Mumsy had on her car), and has 32k miles on it. Oh, and guess what, when all was said and done, I talked him down $3,000 from the sticker price, and came in well under what I was expecting to have to pay. Yes!

Everyone is pretty much thrilled. Me more so than the rest, I hope.

Drinking Problem

Whilst on his break Musician was enjoying a glass of water. It didn't all make it in his mouth.

"Having trouble over there?" I queried.

"I have a drinking problem."

"Me too, actually," I said, referencing something from my childhood, "I have a hole in my chin. Right there." I pointed to the base of my chin. Then my inner imp got the better of me. "Well, actually, right there." I said, moving my finger to the place where a labret stud would be (That's the piercing you see on people's lower lip just above their chin). "Well, it's closed in, now."

"Really?!"

"Nah. My nose is the only thing I've ever done."

This lead to a discussion on ear piercing, I asked if he ever had, nope. Tragic. I do think they're just a little bit sexy.

Gateway Drug

Marijuana—long called "The Gateway Drug." Why am I mentioning it? Hang on. We'll get to it.

Musician plays the sax, and the flute. Yeah. Over the band break we were talking about other horns, specifically the ones without reeds. I jokingly commented to Ninja that "I think trumpets are the gateway horn."

Musician heard me, though the comment wasn't meant for him, "Trumpets are the what?"

"Gateway horn."

"You mean, like, marijuana is 'The-Gateway-Drug-that-leads-to-Crack'?" (See, I told you we'd get to it. Quicker than you thought, too, huh?)

"Yup." I replied with a smile on my face that looked like the cat just ate the canary.

"Uh! I so want to have a legalization talk with you, right now!"

"Ok." I replied cheerfully. I would love to hear his rationalization, since I'm sure he's pro.

"No. It'll wait."

"Ok, but we totally should sometime."

"Ok, just a mini-one, right now. Should we, or shouldn't we?"

"Absolutely, and tax the hell out of it!"

"Ok, we agree. I guess we don't need to have it any more."

"I disagree," Ninja piped up, "but I don't want to talk about it."

What? How can you give that kind of intro and not talk about it? She stuck to her guns. I'm curious though... why not? What's the downside of legalizing it, regulating it, and taxing it, just like we do with cigarettes and beer? Actually, I think in the long run things would be much safer. And, think of all the money we would save on 'the war on drugs' if we quit chasing pot "dealers".

Mumsy I know you disagree with me on this one, so you've gotta pipe up here.

Dinner Concert

As planned Ninja and I and four other people headed down to south Seattle to hear Musician's band play. She made reservations for 5 at 7. At 6:45 my phone rang, it was Musician. "Hey, Girl, are you coming tonight?"

"Yup. We've got reservations at 7, so we'll be there!"

"Great!" a few more pleasantries and he rang off. Her phone didn't ring. So, I wonder three things, (A) Did he figure we would be going together; (2) Was he missing me; or (iii) Did he assume that by 'we' I meant Ninja and myself, rather than Nanny, Sweetheart, Lurch and myself? Anyway you slice it, it must have been quite an interesting shock to see her and me stroll in together as we did. hehehe, That'll show him.

Dinner was good, and about an hour in the band took a break. He joined us at our table and we chit-chatted about things. He mentioned a super busy week and I asked him if he had gone to work on Tuesday (because, as you may or may not recall, I called him and asked him to join me for lunch). Nope, he replied.

"Yeah, it occurred to me half-way through that message that you were undoubtedly one of the 50% of commuters who stayed home."

He laughed, "Yeah, you were, like, 'And... you're probably not here, either...'!"

"Did I say that?! 'Cause I thought it, but did I say it?"

"Yeah. Thanks for thinking of me, though."

We had a good chuckle over that. I wish he had asked me for lunch some time this week, since Monday and Tuesday were, apparently, the only days he missed.

I did, however, manage to plant the seed of thought in his mind that I'm fairly accessible. We were talking about some posters he has for the lunch concerts. I said I put one up in my office, but I could put some more up, if he can get them to me. He asked for my mailing address at work, and I laughed. Or, you could walk them across the street to me.

"Now," he questioned, "would that really be a good use to company resources? I think it would cost more to have me walk them over than to utilize the postal system."

"Ok, well, on your lunch break, when you're in my building anyway you can give me a call and say, 'Girl! I'm in your building, come down and get these.' And, then, I can meet you in the lobby and get them." I'm hoping he does that but instead says, "I'm in your lobby, come down and grab a bite to eat, and take these back up with you." Yeah, right.

Guns, and Sticking To 'Em

Well, I'll be honest, I seriously considered going to the concert Musician was putting on at lunch today. Fortunately, fate wisely kept me from it.

When I got to work I discovered WalksSoftly had scheduled a meeting for us, at 12-12:30. The concert went from 12-1. Ok, I figured, I would miss the first half, then, if I couldn't keep myself away I would show up for the second half.

That didn't happen.

After the meeting I had to check with one of the developers about a bug we had been emailing about. I went to his office, chatted with him, and we made a decision. Then, as I was about to leave, he asked, "Have you eaten lunch yet?" This was followed by an invitation to join him and his office-mate. I did, and it was quite pleasant. The interesting thing about this? I have previously mentioned him here as my least favorite developer. By Halloween we were being down-right pleasant with one another, and can even have conversations that include laughter. Lunch, I think was a big step. It's interesting. He's friends with RC—they play ball together, actually—so I think RC may have said something about all the animosity between us to him, though I doubt it. I think we've just decided to be nicer to one another, and not jump to the defensive when the other says something that could be potentially misconstrued. Is it all me? Certainly not. It's been a joint, unspoken, effort. Frankly, I'm glad for it. The irony of the miscommunications is, naturally, that English happens to be both of our first languages, a rarity at InternetCompany.

What this meant, of course (which is why I brought it up in the first place), is that I missed the second half of the concert. Which is good. I don't want Musician to think I'm throwing myself at him. Though, that could be arranged.