On Being a Granola Geek

Ultimately

2011-10-13T20:19:00.000-07:00

"I think the reason you and Brisk have never made a move on each other is because, ultimately, you don't want to end up with each other."

This theory, offered, unsolicited, over a plate of spice Moroccan rice, has given me some pause for thought this last week.

At the end of the day, do I want to "end up" with Brisk? Probably not. There's a high likelihood that we'd kill each other.

More than that, though, it has made me wonder with whom I want to end up.

I don't recall ever looking at a man I was dating or interested in and thinking "I could grow old with him." Or, "I want to raise his children." Or, perhaps even more telling, "I can see us together for longer than a few years." Every man I've ever dated has come with an expiration date—a time past which I couldn't see us together.

What does that mean? Am I ultimately destined for a life alone? How will I someday know that the person I'm with is who I'm going to spend the rest of my life with? Is that what people mean when they say "I just knew"? Clearly, for me, there's a difference between loving someone and seeing myself grow old with him, so will I ever "just know"? I guess, at the end of the day, it makes the heartbreak of failed romance hurt less—I don't see my entire future crumble, just those few years or months until we passed the date clearly stamped on the box.

Delicate Matters in the Back 40

2011-08-25T20:25:00.000-07:00

I've been joking that I'm going to start a blog teaching people all the skills they should know when backpacking and addressing all those awkward questions you'll never see covered in Backpacker magazine. Such as, how, exactly, does a lady pee in the forest?

This week the question of how one deals with being a her period while in the back 40 was presented. I answered the question, and my girl friend had a fabulous time. She also told the caretakers of the campground they ended up in all about my advice. All my advice. They agreed I should start a blog.

My sister has recommended that I illustrate it xkcd-style. So, now I need a scanner or one of those pads you attach to your computer and then draw on.

Accidental Commune

2011-08-23T20:14:00.000-07:00

"So, you said you were raised in a commune, right?" The question came quite out of nowhere and was presented to me by a woman I've spoken with maybe twice in the 7 months I've been in my current ward.

I laughed. "Oh, no! I'm a total dirt-eating hippie, and my parents are kind of Mother Earth types, but, no, no commune." Then I got to thinking about all the random people we had living in our house over the years, and the interesting living conditions, and the outdoor shower, and the garden, and the composting (way before it was cool), and, and, and... and then I said, "heh, well, sort of..."

"Oh," she said, "where were you raised?"

"A very small town in rural Northern California just outside of Yosemite."

"Maybe that's where I got it--Northern California is kind of, liberal."

When I got home I told Mumsy. She laughed and agreed with me that, yeah, sort of, when you think about it, my childhood was quite communal. I proposed a memoir of growing up in an "accidental commune." Dad has declared that I'm not allowed, at least not until he's dead. Maybe I'll start it now. He's got only a few more years in him anyway.

Happenings

2011-08-21T20:10:00.000-07:00

Yes, it's been too long. I'm sorry. I got out of the nightly habit and have yet (years later) to get back into the swing of it.

However, here are the interesting happenings:
Midge graduated from University (yay!) and got turned down for grad school (boo!) and then couldn't find a job (booooooo!) so she decided she needed a change of pace and invited herself up to Seattle.

Annnddd... now I have a new roommate.

She and I agreed in the very beginning this would be a 3 month affair. No more. Period. I'm prepared to box her up and ship her butt to Tibet if she hasn't found a place in 3 months.

Brisk isn't so convinced. So, we have a friendly little wager. Current stakes are: if she's out by some date in November he goes vegan for a week. If she's not, I have to eat 5 pounds of meat over the course of a week. Where at least 2 pounds of that are red meat. Good thing for me I know I'm willing to kick her out the week before Thanksgiving. :D

Yes, I'm a terrible sister.

Related: despite my warnings, she has a crush on Brisk. This will only end poorly for her.

Oh, Haute Damn!

2011-07-01T11:31:00.000-07:00

I'm just going to go out on a limb and assume that you, my beloved readership, aren't really high fashion snobs. Maybe you are, and that's cool. Why you're reading my blog is beyond me, but, hey, I can roll with it.

Given that assumption, then, I am also going to assume that Amazon's roll out of MYHABIT hasn't phased you, in the least. However, for me, I've been phased. I've taken to finding "shoe porn" and sending it to a friend every morning. These are shoes there is no way on this Earth I'd probably ever be able to afford, but, who cares? They're sexy!

Today's shoe required special mention:

At a discounted $119 you should all jump on that... Or, just buy me a pair (account required). A size 10 would be just fine.

Brand Spankin' new Graduate

2011-05-08T14:35:00.000-07:00

Midge graduated from University this week. I flew up to Utah for the occasion and spent four days hanging out with various aunts and uncles as well as my parents and, of course, the Honoree.

Best of luck to her in whatever she chooses to do with her life!

On Rolling a Kayak

2011-05-08T14:27:00.000-07:00

I'm terrible at kayaking, but I love it. The adrenalin rush makes suffering through sucking manageable. However, whenever anyone hosts a practice day I am the first to sign up—never to miss an opportunity to get out in the water and work on my skills.

Monday was such a day. After a nice long bike ride over the weekend, I came home, took my bike off my car, and tossed the kayak on top. Then, after work on Monday I rushed home, and drove off to the lake to practice. The weather was chilly, and the water was frigid. Usually I wear a splash jacket when paddling, but I always get water up my sleeve, so I opted to not.

Bad choice.

I was so cold that after a 20 minutes of dunking and sucking I finally announced that I was bailing. I pulled my boat out of the lake, hiked up to my car, changed into dry clothes (including pulling on my emergency beanie), and headed to REI where I bought a new wet suit, and jacket. I shall be very warm next time.

I still need a new swimsuit.

Keeping Secrets

2011-04-25T12:26:00.000-07:00

Sometimes there are secrets so damning that you keep them to yourself. I'm keeping a couple of those right now and I need to get them out.

That Girl

2011-04-05T14:05:00.001-07:00

I've been thinking lately about the possible impending nuptials of two of my friends.

And now all I can think about is how badly I want to be married. And possibly children. And the possibility of my ovaries drying up and turning to dust before I even have the chance to really consider children.

When did I become that girl? Drat.

The Rule Is...

2011-03-29T14:40:00.000-07:00

Rules.

They carry a lot of weight—a lot of direction.

As a people we choose to be bound by them to help maintain a sense of structure in our society. And, the dirty hippies among us choose to rebel against the unjust and absurd of those. It's what was do.

And, so, when Brisk declares that "The rule is..." there is something inside my brain that just twinges.

But not the way you think.

I positively adore rules. The more absurd the better. There is something about someone else decreeing that something is someway and there is nothing I can do about it that just works for me. I love giving my control over to someone, and knowing that at any point I can violate the rule and there aren't really any repercussions, and yet still choosing to be bound by the rules.

Brisk has rules. He lives and dies by them. He sets them, and frequently they are regarding my behavior. And, I conform.

Last night we were talking about something and he said, "I can't really make you do that." To which I replied, "I'm surprised you haven't figured out the thing with me and rules yet." And then I found myself giving him the keys to the kingdom. We'll see what he does with them.

Noodle Soup

2011-03-25T21:58:00.000-07:00

I have a cold.

I originally had a asthma attack which resulted in a horrible cough. Then that horrible cough morphed into a hacking cough. Combined with a runny nose, I'm pretty sure it's a cold.

And, when I get sick my voice gets all husky and sexy. Brisk commented that I sound like a sultry 1940s jazz singer. I like.

This afternoon as we were headed back to work post coffee break I whined, "Briiiissskkkkk make me noodle soup."

"One caveat," he insisted, and I knew what it was, "Chicken."

"If you make and bring me chicken noodle soup, I'll eat it." I told him.

"Wait, let me get this straight—you're giving me an in?" he questioned.

"Yup," I countered, "that's how sure I am that you won't make me noodle soup."

The woman on the escalator behind us laughed.

Brisk then ensured me that he makes delicious noodle soup, right down to the homemade noodles.

Here's the thing—I don't think he actually would make me noodle soup; but, if he put in the effort I totally would.

Aftermath

2011-03-22T20:31:00.000-07:00

The crazy thing about exercising and endurance events is that when you've been working up to something steadily that crazy something doesn't hurt as bad as you think it will.

For example: Sunday my feet were a bit tender and my legs stiff, but nothing that some water and a nice long soak in the bath couldn't take the edge off of.
Monday my ache had shifted to my lower back (almost like a bad night sleep than a race ache), muscles were still a little stiff, but not much.

What I'm most surprised about is how much my knees don't hurt (hardly at all), and how little my feet hurt. The bones on the tops of my feet still aren't thrilled about taking weight, but the soles of my feet are just fine. A nice 4 mile run Tuesday sounds like just what the doctor ordered.

Robot

2011-03-21T20:36:00.000-07:00

As I walked to my friend's car for a ride home following my epic battle of self vs. self a little girl passed me and obverved, "You walk robotic." Her dad shushed her, but I just smiled and said, "I'm sore, sweetie," and left him to explain why.

My friends laughed, she had, apparently, picked the perfect descriptor.

Would You Believe

2011-03-21T20:16:00.000-07:00

I did it!!

Sunday, 20th of March, this non-runner hauled her butt 13.1 miles around Mercer Island in just under 3 hours.

I went into the race (hah!) hoping for 3 hours, but planning on 3 1/2. Imagine my delight when, 20 yards from the finish line, I saw the big clock ticking seconds towards 3:00:00. I'm not sure what happened, but, one moment the clock read 2:59:34 and something popped in my brain and I knew, I just knew that if I sprinted I could make those last final yards in under 26 seconds; and the next minute I was sprinting. I laid it all out there and made a mad dash for the finish line.

I could hear people cheering me on, a male's voice from my right called, "That's it! Finish strong!" And then I crossed the blue timing pad, only to see three more. I wanted to stop, but I wanted to make sure my time was logged: under 3 hours. So I kept sprinting. Past the photographer, past the official finish line, and nearly into a ladder. But, I did it!

As I bent over, gasping for air, I noticed the woman who was right behind me had made the same choice. Together we laughed, and she told me that I had inspired her to sprint the final yards.

I can hardly wait to see my photos from the race. Those finish line photos will appear to be a battle to the end, two slow, round ladies in a mad race to victory! And, I will appear victorious!

Honestly, though, we both were. We both told ourselves we'd do it, and, by gum, we did. We didn't finish first, and we didn't finish dead last (quite nearly, but not exactly), but we finished. Now, I'd like to pause and send a shout out to the final runner to cross the finish line. Her official time was 3:31:23. At 65 years of age, this runner decided to do a half marathon, and she did. Awesome!

Half and Half

2011-03-06T14:17:00.000-08:00

I've been training since October for a marathon, and when Wolf dropped out of our discussed China marathon, I had to pick another. I've been looking around casually and this week finally settled on one. I'm going to do the Capital City Marathon in Olympia, WA.

But I'm not going to sign up until I complete my first half marathon on the 20th of March. That's right, folks, I've registered for the (very hilly) Mercer Island half marathon...in two weeks from today.

I'm going to die.

Racer!

2011-03-06T14:05:00.000-08:00

Last year during the STP I flew past some people at roughly 33 mph. It was awesome! The speed felt great! What a rush! And, as I flew past some lady shouted supportively after me, "You go girl!" And, then, later, I was talking to some guys who used to race (and, whom I had also flown past). All of that got me thinking that maybe, just maybe, I could be a bike racer.

This is a thought I have been entertaining to myself—too chicken to share it with anyone else.

When the guys all got bike racing licenses I decided I'd probably have to wait a bit before I could get my own, maybe learn from their efforts.

Today I learned the only lesson I needed to learn.

It was Brisk's first race, and 10 miles into an 36 mile race he was dropped by the pack after maintaining speeds in the high 20s. Unless I truly get in the kind of shape I can't imagine ever being in, there is no way I'm ever going to be a bike racer.

I do have to say, I was worried about him being depressed about his performance, but he wasn't. And, for that, I'm so glad. He's going to get back on the bike and do it again, and I don't have to be a shoulder for him to cry on, yet.

Love and Marriage

2011-02-16T23:00:00.000-08:00

I joke a lot that I just want to get laid. About how I want to get married, so I can get laid. I joke about it probably too much.

But, the reality of the situation is this: sure, I want to have sex. But, more than that, I want someone to wake up next to; or curl up with as I drift off to sleep. I want to roll over in my sleep in the dead of night and have my sweetheart there, breathing rhythmically in his sleep. I want the intimacy that can only be found in a long term committed relationship. I want stupid fights followed by tender apologies. I want to be able to stop wanting.

Graduation

2011-02-16T22:28:00.000-08:00

Well, it finally happened, I made it to 31 unmarried. That means a lot of things, one of which is that I had to change wards. See, from 18-31 we have "Singles Wards" where unmarried members can go to meet together and hopefully get married. When you turn 31 they kick you out and make you go to a "Family Ward" (which amounts to normal church where some people are married, some aren't, and the ages range from newly weds to nearly deads and and some kids tossed in the mix). Some people think it's weird or sad or unfortunate or cruel; but the fact of the matter is: I appreciate it. At 30 I was older than everyone in my ward, which means, all the guys were younger than I. I don't mind a few years, but a 31 year old girl hitting on a 22 year old guy just gets creepy. Similarly with a 31 year old guy and a 22 year old girl. It's just better all around.

In the vernacular we like to say that those who turn 31 and are single "graduate" or (the more bitter graduates) "flunked out". Since I don't define myself by my marital status, "graduate" just sounds more positive, so I'll take it.

On my first Sunday in my new ward they asked me to introduce myself, and I complied. I think I'm the first single they've had join the ward in a long time, as they were all unfamiliar with the term.

I'm excited for the new ward, I think I've moved past the singles' ward and am in a new spot in my life. Ready and eager for what the world has to offer.

Mice and Men

2011-01-29T22:36:00.000-08:00

Happy Birthday to me.

Today I turn 31.

Isn't that something? Nah, not really. Everyone ages. It's a simple fact.

I like to take these opportunities to look back at my life and see how where I am lines up with where I thought I'd be. I guess the thing that's on my mind the most lately is that I made it this far unmarried. I certainly didn't plan to. In my mind 28 seemed like the ideal age, heavily influenced by the fact that that's how old my parents were when they tied the knot. When ExOfNote and I didn't end up together I wasn't worried—I still had a good 3 years to work all that out. Now, I'm three years past the imaginary 'ideal' time. And, you know what? I'm ok with that.

I've found that outside the Mormon community people often don't get married before they're 30. But, more importantly, I feel that as time passes I become a better potential partner.

What else did I not anticipate? I didn't anticipate that at 31 I'd be training for my first marathon. I didn't anticipate that I'd be in (literally) the best physical shape of my life. I didn't anticipate that I'd be contemplating major life changes. And, I certainly didn't anticipate being as satisfied as I am with my life not turning out as I planed.

All in all, no, life didn't turn out as I thought it would. It's turning out better.

Totally Happened

2011-01-25T21:14:00.000-08:00

"How is it 4:17 already?!" my coworker asked, shocked that the day had flown by.

"Well, Sally," I started facetiously, "there are 60 seconds in a minute..." then I knew where I had to go.

"You see, Sally, when a mommy earth loves a daddy sun very much she gives him a very special hug..."

Laughter ensued.

The Rule

2011-01-25T20:58:00.000-08:00

Ages ago I called Mumsy one day and Pops answered. "Oh," he said causally, "we're just on the way home from the hospital, you mother had a scare..."

Excuse me? What?? THE HOSPITAL and you're just now telling me?! And only because I called??!!

"Well," Mumsy replied to my surprised questioning (I was, apparently, on speaker phone), "it's not like there was anything you could have done."

"Yes there is." I insisted.

"Like what?"

"Worry, mother, I could have worried."

Thus, a new rule was born. Whenever either one of my parents is hospitalized they have to call me while they're in the hospital.

I tell you this now because Monday morning at 5:55 am my phone rang. It was my Dad. I hit ignore. Because, really? Who calls at 6 o'clock in the morning? As soon as I hit ignore I realized that no one calls at 6 am... unless there's something wrong.

I immediately called him. "You're mother is in the hospital. They ran some tests..." blah blah blah.... "and everything is fine, but she told me to call you." Fact: when calling someone at 6 AM start at the end. Especially if it's "she's fine". I spent 30 heart-stopping seconds wondering if I should be booking a flight home.

Turns out she was anemic.

I rolled over and went back to sleep.

All Worked Up and Nowhere To Go

2011-01-25T20:47:00.000-08:00

In the immortal words of Arnold Schwarzenegger, results are in.

The doctor says it's something called a "xanthogranuloma," not of the juvenile variety. I'll be fine, and my scar shouldn't be too bad. Though, to be honest, I'm not loving it.

Moving on...

Walking Out

2011-01-10T22:56:00.000-08:00

Saturday night we went out to celebrate a friend's birthday. She wanted to go to a piano bar which happens to be right near the football stadium. It was game night, but since the Seahawks suck no one was really too worried about the crowd. Reservations were made for hours after the game was scheduled to end.

Except they won.

And the victory party lasted very very very long. So long, in fact, that it was still raging when we got there. The whole thing wasn't really my scene, nor was it Brisk's. Who, according to his claims, I guilted into showing up. As he and I sat there trying to have fun, but not really enjoying ourselves too much one of the pianists called up a woman who was celebrating her birthday. As a 'treat' for her he started in on some limericks. Some excruciatingly crass limericks. I was quite uncomfortable, as was Brisk. I have to pause here and admit that I was surprised at how much he wasn't enjoying the humor. Finally, after 4 or 6 verses the 'song' ended and the pianist wished the birthday girl a pleasant evening.

Brisk and I chatted about how that was terribly not awesome, and he confessed that he was trying to think of some place nearby to go while we waited for our buses (to avoid game traffic and downtown parking we had both caught buses in, and we had another 45 minutes before they would be making the rounds). As another birthday girl was cheered up on stage and more crass jokes were being made at her expense Brisk finally came up with some place. "Done!" I said hopping off my bar stool. We made quick rounds saying our goodbyes and headed out.

I felt a little weird leaving a party so early, but more than that I felt relieved to be walking out of a situation which made me uncomfortable. And, I was really glad to have a friend to walk out with me.

Sunday I learned that our early departure had prompted a "medium amount" of gossip and knowing (and, apparently, approving) assertions that we could "entertain [our]selves."

Soups On

2011-01-10T22:42:00.001-08:00

I decided in December that I need to start taking my lunch to work rather than continue buying lunch daily. Because making lunch every single day just isn't going to work for me, I have taken to making large batches of soup and bringing jars in to the office.

I started off this week planning on making two different soups, but they both called for veggie stock. I decided to make that from scratch because, you know, I can. I started cooking the stock around 5 or 6 last night and finally went to bed around midnight. Stock done, half of one soup completed, and the other soup not even started.

Today I finished the second soup and left the first one half done. I figured I might as well complete one full soup rather than finish the first one and make it through half of the second before tucking in. It seemed like a good plan in theory. And, now I have soup for tomorrow. Whee. Tuesday night, post-run, I shall finish up the second soup.

Return to Zen

2011-01-10T20:54:00.000-08:00

Friday I had an appointment with a dermatologist to have my bump checked out. I anticipated her taking a biopsy immediately and sending it out for evaluation before deciding what to do.

What she did do, instead, was schedule me for surgery this Friday. While she can't tell me exactly what it is (until tests are run) she wants to remove the entire mass that's above the surface and send it for a biopsy and then possibly go back in and remove any cancer after the results are back.

This is good news, either way, the damn bump is going to be gone.

She did promise me a small scar. Boo.

Oddly enough, Thursday night before my first appointment I returned to a state of utter zen about the whole thing. No big deal. It's almost as if I was never worried or freaking out. It's nice to be back to myself. And, the fact of the matter is, there is nothing I can do about it, but what I'm doing, and any amount of worry isn't going to change the facts.

Talk

2011-01-08T23:12:00.000-08:00

After some pretty blatant flirting on line Brisk and I were getting an afternoon beverage. "So," he said sitting down, "I have to tell you something, and I think you deserve to hear it in person. You and me? It's never going to happen."

I laughed, "um, of course not!" Because, honestly, what else can you say?

"Ok, I just wanted to make sure you knew."

And, there we are. I guess he, like most of us, just likes having someone with whom to flirt.

Resoloutionists

2011-01-06T20:02:00.000-08:00

Once again, no resolutions for me. Amazingly liberating.

However, after taking a week off work and running during the day rather than in the dark I realized how much better it is. With that in mind I've decided to start running over lunch two days a week to see how I like it and if it works. Wednesday as I was out there sweating on the trail I passed a number of notably more fit individuals and couldn't help but assume that they were all looking at me and judging me to be a New Years Resolutionist who were smug in their own self-satisfaction that I'm going to put in a good show for a couple of weeks and then retire my expensive new exercise gear to the back of my closet until next year. Little do all of them know, I've been at this for months. I suck at it, yes, but I'm not throwing in the towel any time soon. And so, to them I say, "Suck it, judgmental fit people. You have no idea what I have under the hood."

Big Scary Internet

2011-01-04T21:03:00.000-08:00

In October I thought I had a very boring and unimportant zit pop up next to my eye on the bridge of my nose. I tried to pop it (yeah, I know you wanted to know that) and moved on. After a while said zit kind of scarred over.

And then it grew.

And grew.

And now it's big and scary.

I figured I should probably see a dermatologist about it, and have an appointment on Friday. Initially I figured it was nothing major, just something I should probably have looked at.

Today I started googling images of skin cancer and descriptions. Turns out the internet is a dangerous place. What I found freaked me out. I found images and descriptions which have me worried that what I have is called "basal cell carcinoma".

I am worried. and freaked out. and have no idea what the future holds. But, above all, I'm hopeful that it's nothing. I'm also so ridiculously lonely. It's a scary thing to be facing alone, even if it is nothing, the suspense over the next few days or week is going to be rough.

Christmas Orphans

2010-12-26T09:33:00.000-08:00

Those of us who stay in town for the holidays (Thanksgiving included) call ourselves 'orphans'. It's cute and catchy and somehow makes me (at least) feel less lonely to know there are others in the same situation.

Brisk hosted Christmas dinner at his house. Cyclist and I loaded up, drove out there and spent 7 hours watching Christmas specials, eating Christmas dinner, and enjoying way too many ginger snaps.

It was calm and pleasant.

Oh, and when Cyclist asked us what our plans are for New Years Brisk immediately replied, "Making out with Granola."

No one believed him.

But, I wouldn't object.

All I Want For Christmas

2010-12-24T08:43:00.000-08:00

is to stop getting flat tires!

Brisk decided to organize "bike training camp" for the week many of us are taking off between Christmas and New Years. He sent out the invite to all of us but Cyclist and I were the only two who responded.

Today was the first ride. A short 25 mile jaunt around Lake Sammamish. He planned on it taking a little under 2 hours. A fair assessment, I believe(d). Cyclist bailed at the last minute so it was just Brisk and I for a soggy ride. We met up and got suited up, and just as we were nearly ready to leave Brisk discovered he had lost his car key. We combed through his car—3 times. We looked in places it couldn't possibly have fallen and discovered things we shouldn't have had to discover (ok, really just a butter knife under the driver's seat). We checked all his pockets and under the car twice. Finally, as I stood from checking the passenger's seat I saw the key sitting calmly on the top of his car, tucked neatly next to the roof rack on the driver's side. We laughed, finished gearing up, and, 35 minutes after arriving, headed out.

Not far out I got a flat tire. We pulled off to the side of the road so I could change it. Brisk stood there watching me struggle with it and finally took pity on me and took the tire off the wheel (let me pause at this point to let you know: I'm never getting a wire beaded tire ever again. They're a pain in the butt to get on and off). He did, however, make me pump the thing. As it turns out, I really dislike my new bike pump. And, the whole while he stood there smiling at me, enjoying my 'pain.'

Once back on the road we continued to enjoy our soggy soggy ride. In truth, after a while you don't even notice the rain anymore.

And, then, nearly 10 miles from the end of our ride I got another flat. This one on the other wheel. I didn't have a tube, and Cyclist was meeting us for lunch, so time was of the essence. I told Brisk to just go get his car and pick me up, since we really didn't have any other options. He left me with his tube and off he went.

15 minutes later (I've had to change that particular tire before so it's a little easier to get off the wheel) I was back on the road. At some point in his back tracking we missed each other, so he turned around and headed back towards me. Once again, we missed each other. But, this time just barely. He made it back to the Park and Ride minutes before I did.

I changed into dry clothes and 2 hours later than originally planned we were eating Christmas Eve Chinese food.

For the record, Brisk and I inhaled our portions.

And, after wards I immediately bought three new tubes (one for Brisk) and a CO2 pump. I'm tired of the hand thing. Harumph.

I'll be (not at) Home for Christmas

2010-12-23T08:34:00.000-08:00

It was a long and drawn out and thought out process, but I decided to not go home for Christmas this year. I have gone home every Christmas except the one I spent with ExOfNote's family since I left home. This year, like many others, it was just going to be my parents, Midge, and me.

The more I thought about it, the more I decided that not going would be a better idea. Whenever we're around each other—at least at their home—my father and I invariably get in some fight about something that ultimately doesn't matter. But it gets ugly. And I'm done fighting with him. He knows exactly what buttons to push, and if it's been too long without an argument he'll go at them full force. It's ridiculous and I decided I don't need to put up with it anymore.

Add to that the expense of flying on Christmas and the fact that I just saw them in September, and, though I know it'll be a bit lonely, I decided staying here was better than going there.

Hopefully we all have a happy Christmas.

I Am Not Your Therapist

2010-12-13T09:36:00.000-08:00

Dear friends and loved ones:
I understand you're feeling down and sad and need to work through some things, but the time has come, it's been brewing for a while now, for me to put my foot down. I am many things, your friend, your sister, your comrade, your sounding board, your slap in the head. But, I am not your therapist. I love you and want the best for you, which is why I'm telling you now, honestly, pointedly (ok, and on a blog you'll never read, so more behind your back than anything), I am not your therapist. Please, for your sake, for mine pay someone to listen to your problems and help you come up with solutions. I need a break.

Running

2010-12-07T21:58:00.000-08:00

Well, I've been working on the whole running thing, and today managed to jog 2.8 miles in roughly 40 minutes. For those of you who don't feel like doing math that's 4.2 miles/hour, or a 14 1/4 minute mile. Which is pretty good. If I could sustain that rate, that means I can expect my marathon to take me 6 hours and 15 minutes. I don't think that currently I could sustain that rate for 6 hours.

In 25 weeks I hope I can get to that point.

Old West

2010-12-07T21:48:00.000-08:00

Every morning I bike past a train yard, and then next to train tracks for nearly 3 miles. This morning as I was riding a freight train was slowly making its way down the tracks. As I rode past it the William Tell Overture popped into my head. And then mental images of cowboys and a great train robbery. And, before you could predict, there I was, in the Old West, about to execute an amazing train heist—on my bike. It was Awesome!

Fact: imagination is a wonderful thing.

Secret Blog

2010-11-24T22:15:00.000-08:00

The amusing thing about having a secret blog is when your friends learn you have one, and then try desperately to find it. Part of me wishes I didn't even have a blog, just because the entertainment value is so high, and that would only amplify it.

Musical Sunday School

2010-11-23T22:06:00.000-08:00

My calling at church is to lead the music in Relief Society. It's not terribly glamorous, but I do enjoy picking hymns that correspond with the lesson and which we maybe don't sing all that often.

This Sunday I was selecting Thanksgiving hymns and chatting with the Relief Society president about how it'd be fun to have a Sunday where we just sing hymns and I said, "Just let me know, and I'll totally do it."

Minutes later we found out the teacher was sick and wouldn't be coming. The RS President asked me if I wouldn't mind leading a singing lesson. I agreed and when she announced our plan someone suggested we go around the room and have people say what they were thankful for. I decided to incorporate that into the brand new lesson plan.

Following announcements, I got up and lead a very willing and exciting room full of sisters on a tour of Thanksgiving hymns and thoughts. After every hymn I asked for a couple of people to share what they were thankful for. It was really neat. And, if I do say so myself, wildly successful.

STP Follow Up

2010-11-22T22:18:00.000-08:00

I just realized that per blog information in July I was wimping out of the STP. Well, as a (very belated) update: I totally did it. And it was way better than last year. Also: I have no idea how I actually did it the first year. It was, literally 80% will power for most of the ride, and 100% for the last 60 miles.

This year it was much better. Much.

Twitter

2010-11-22T22:03:00.000-08:00

Since the end of the Bill era he hasn't been on Twitter. Frankly, it's been nice to have that space all my own. I blocked his updates on Facebook and have just be carrying along nicely not having to deal with him. Why didn't I unfriend him? I assume at some later date we may salvage pieces of our friendship and I don't want the awkwardness of having to say, "Oh, hey, um, during the bad times I unfriended you. Can we have another go?"

Now, months on, he's back on Twitter. I wish he'd stop and let me have it.

snOMGosh

2010-11-22T21:55:00.000-08:00

Yeah, it's snowing in Seattle, and you'd think the world ended. Traffic is snarled, people are stranded. The end of the world is neigh.

For my part, I chose to walk home from work (roughly 5 miles) because I figured it would be quicker than trying to catch a bus. 90 minutes later, not a single bus passed me and I was home and defrosting. I'd say mission accomplished.

I'm Ok With

2010-11-09T12:12:00.001-08:00

not knowing what I want right now.

I'm not ok with breaking my friend worse than he already is.

Confused.

Indecision

2010-11-08T22:22:00.000-08:00

I guess a buddy and I have been expending more effort in each others' direction as of late. I think it started out really after the whole Bill thing blew up. We've been good friends for years (I saw him through his girlfriend leaving him, etc), but I really needed someone to lean on during and after the end of the era of Bill, and he was it.

My friends think we should hook up—and many of them have expressed this desire for quite some time now. It's only getting worse as I've been leaning on him more.

Saturday night there were a couple of gatherings, neither of which he was invited to (not my fault), so in the middle of the evening he started texting me. I replied and we had a good conversation which included me threatening to go over to his house and hang out Sunday. He told me he was planning on cooking fish—to keep me away. So, since it sure sounded like I wasn't invited, I didn't go.

Then on Sunday a bunch of us were all out together and afterwords he were walking to our cars which happened to be in the same area of the parking garage. As we headed over to our cars our hands brushed. I moved away ever so slightly just in case it was a matter of us walking too closely together.

We stood by his car talking for quite sometime, during which he expressed disappointment that I hadn't gone over. I told him that I took his threat to cook fish as a clear indication that he'd rather not have me come by. "Oh, I figured you come by anyway." "I have no problem inviting myself over, but I don't show up when I've been told to not come by."

Here's the thing: I'm really really confused. I don't know if I want more, or if he's totally a rebound, or what. And, I don't know if he wants more or if he just wants to be friends.

A friend of mine (who is strongly encouraging this to become a relationship) has concluded that he's interested. When I told her that we may or may not have a date for this weekend she asked me what my evil plan is, assuming that he's interested, given that I'm not sure. I told her that we'll figure that out once he makes a move. Until then, there is no use worrying about breaking him. I mean, if he's interested and makes a move then we can talk about how I'm not sure. If he's not interested and I say something then it just has all sorts of potential to be all kinds of awkward.

I suppose we'll see what happens Friday. If Friday happens.

Flat Tire

2010-11-08T21:51:00.000-08:00

In the month of October I got three flat tires on my bike. Once in the front, twice in the rear. After the third flat I decided to buy new tires. They came, but I didn't feel like doing the work to put them on.

So when I got a text from Brisk expressing that he was "booooorreeeddd" Sunday night I replied in kind. And then asked if he wanted to put my tires on my wheels. "Only if you drive out to Tajikistan" (he lives about 40 minutes from Seattle). I agreed, but had just gotten back from a trip and was tired, so I wasn't going to do it right then. We ended up deciding I'd go out to his place, he'd put tires on my wheels, and I'd look at paint swatches with him (he wants to repaint his house). So, Tuesday I put my wheels and tires in the back of my car and drove to work. After work I drove Brisk home, where we hung out, looked at paint swatches and replaced tires. All very very innocently. In retrospect, I'm not sure why I had to drive to Tajikistan to have my tires replaced when we could have just done it in the parking lot at work. But I can tell you why I did—we seem to be very confused about what we want from one another.

Box, Shelf, Done

2010-11-08T21:38:00.000-08:00

I think I have finally closed the page on the Bill issue. I feel quite a bit of relief, but also quite a bit of loss. I miss him, but I can no longer stand the level of pain and hurt I was allowing that relationship to cause me.

Broken Foot

2010-11-08T21:09:00.000-08:00

So, one time I decided to run a marathon.

With that comes training, and lots of it.

Being the smart woman I am, I jumped in determined to do this the right way—with a training program. I started jogging intervals roughly 30 minutes a day three or four days a week.

Which is where I went wrong.

I now have a stress fracture in my left foot and the doctor says I can't run for roughly six weeks.

Not That Subtle

2010-10-04T22:38:00.001-07:00

Out at dinner with some friends this weekend one of the girls (who knows very little about the current state of Bill-ness) asked, "Are you and Bill 'over?'"

"What do you mean? Where'd you get that idea?"

"Oh, it was something you said, or tweeted. I just got the impression that you weren't speaking to him or something."

"Well," I said, trying to keep the exact situation contained to a smaller group, "I guess I'm just letting things go where they go." You know, I didn't add, go where they go after I stab them to death.

My guess? It was the email I sent out organizing my birthday party—his name was conspicuously absent from the invite list.

The Note

2010-10-04T22:04:00.000-07:00

Right after I decided to cut Bill off completely I left him a note with his house keys on his desk. It was short and simple, and kind of final. Well, let's be honest, any note that includes your house keys is pretty final.

I left it on his desk on Friday morning. Saturday morning I popped into the office to pick something up and stopped by his desk to see what he had done with the note. I should pause here and say, he's keeps things like notes and Christmas cards. I was still a bit surprised to see it on his desk rather than in the bin (he most assuredly can't take it home—Chick would freak out, but he could have tossed it in the desk).

Fast forward to today. I had a spoon of his from when we lived together which I brought home and washed and needed to return. I took it to his desk this morning to leave it there before he got in. It's been weeks and the note is still there, and has been joined by a post-it note that I left quite earlier in the month just saying hi.

Honestly, now I'm wondering what that means, why he still has it, and what am I supposed to do with that information. In the end, I suppose it doesn't matter. I'm sure he's sad that I severed ties, and, possibly hurting, but the fact of the matter is: I had to take control of the amount of pain I was allowing that relationship to cause me. And, I have to take care of me, and worry about me, since no one else is. I know Bill will be ok, now I have to make sure I am.

No Contact

2010-10-04T21:39:00.000-07:00

Not talking to Bill has been hard, but as time passes it becomes just how things are. Last week he was down in my office area talking with a coworker. I hoped he'd stop by my desk and say 'hi'. What he did do was wave.

I ignored him.

Why? He hurt me a ton, and if he wants to rebuild our friendship I need much more than a wave to make me feel more generous towards him.

Teach asked me if I'd 'take him back' if he wanted. I told her that it would take a whole lot more than I think he's willing to put in. And, by the time he puts in enough effort for me to notice and believe that his efforts are genuine he'll probably have just given up.

So, There we are.

Things that Suck

2010-10-04T21:34:00.000-07:00

You know what sucks? I got all the friends in the 'divorce' and now there's no one I can ask how you're doing.

Two

2010-09-16T22:30:00.000-07:00

Recent news reports are declaring that studies are showing that when people enter serious relationships they lose exactly two friends.

Bill and I went to lunch today for the first time in a long time. After a chatting about this, that, and nothing, I mentioned it to him. "Yeah," he said, "well, in my case, you were it."

"'Were,'" I replied. "Past tense." We paused sadly for a moment. Then I went on to tell him that I really hope he's happy and that's what matters. Because, honestly, it's true. I do hope he's happy, and, for him, that's what matters. As we made our way upstairs I told him that I was done with dating, with relationships, with the whole letting people in bit. Because, frankly, when I let people in, I get hurt; and I'm done with getting hurt. Naturally, he tried to talk me out of it. "You know," I told him, "and, I don't even give a rat's ass if that means I end up alone. I'm already alone, it's not like it's changing the status quo or anything." I'm not sure he believes me.

To be honest, I've been there, and I like it better that way. I don't get hurt, and it's easier. Ironically, he's the one who opened me up, who asked me to expose myself and become vulnerable, to need people. And, when I did that's when he hurt me. I don't know how many times he told me that I should need people, and when I needed him, he wasn't there. So, I'm done. I'm done wasting time. I'm done getting hurt. I'm just done.

Later, over im, I asked him if he missed me, or if he was too busy to miss me. He said he misses me, "but it's a matter of time."

I replied, "No, it's a matter of priority. But, it is what it is." He said that he sees me just as much as he sees his other friends. "That's fine. But, selfishly, I don't want to be one of your 'other friends.' Because, frankly, going from best friend to someone you occasionally send lame-ass jokes to, sucks." I also told him that I needed to know where things are with us, because I need to box some things up and put them on the shelf. He protested that he didn't know why I do that. I told him that I need know that when I call someone, they'll be there for me. And if not, then I need to know that, too. "You know how I am with friendships. I hold on to them fiercely, until it's time put them aside, then I do." I know not everyone gets it, but that's the way I am. Friendships have a time and a place, and seldom do they transcend those bounds. I was certain this one would, and it kills me that I was wrong. So, into the emotional box, and on the shelf it goes. And, with that shelving, back come the fortified walls and some additional buffeting, just in case.

Now, how do I get my house key back from him without coming off like a complete jerk?

Trepidation

2010-09-16T22:25:00.000-07:00

After the near miss on Tuesday I knew I had to get on my bike soon. Wednesday was out because I was going kayaking after work (roll practice—I nearly did it!) so I had to drive. Which left this morning.

The weather was Seattle, rainy off and on, but I've ridden in worse. Deciding to ride was the easy part. I geared up and just as I was about to toss my leg over the bike to make my way to work I noticed that my heart was pounding. I was slightly hesitant and a bit trepidatious. A few minutes into the ride, however, and I was good to go.

The ride home was just as easy.

Thank goodness.

Near Death, no, Literally

2010-09-14T20:13:00.001-07:00

I bike. I love it. It's something I do for exercise, for transportation, and for me.

Today I was biking for transportation. I had an appointment 4 or 5 miles from home and afterward was riding home. The route takes me down a hill which is steep enough that, without pedaling, one can easily hit 30 mph (which, it works out, is the speed limit). As I was flying down hill a pickup truck pulled out in front of me, the driver hadn't given me much notice, but I knew he was there. Then, without warning, he slowed, pulled into the bike lane and started making a right hand turn into me.

Panicked, I started calling out "Hey! HEY! HEY!!!! No! NO! NOOOO!!!" while braking, trying to find a way to swerve around him—which, unfortunately, meant turning right, hopefully squeezing between his truck and the curb, and then not hitting any of the parked cars on the street I was turning on to. When the realization that impact was unavoidable hit me, I screamed. The anticipatory scream of someone who knows they're very likely not going to make another sound. He slammed on his brakes and I made it around him, and safely onto the street still on my bike and unscathed. I came to a complete stop to regroup, and the drive pulled beside me. I was scared and angry and relieved and, most importantly, alive.

"I'm so sorry!" he began, "that was totally my fault! I didn't see you. Thank you for screaming, that's the reason I stopped!" A few apologies and my reply of "yeah, me too!" and he went on his way.

Me, I collapsed in a heap at the side of road and bawled. I was too shaken to ride my bike and just needed a hug. I text to Bill (who lives right around the corner from my near demise) proved fruitless—he was at the fair. I paced. I cried. I shook. And, once it was readily apparent that my only way home was to get back on my bike and pedal, I did. Tears streaming down my face the whole way.

There are no words to fully capture how I feel. The closest I can get is that I'm in need desperate of physical human contact and acutely aware of my own mortality.

Just Proves that I'm a Girl

2010-08-23T22:25:00.000-07:00

My ward had a camp out this weekend. I went despite leaving Seattle late Friday night, and having to leave early Saturday morning.

And, there I met a very cute boy. He's smart, he's funny, he's a good conversationalist.

Problem though, he's a bit too smooth.

Also, he's a bit of an ass.

I'm worried that I'm still intrigued. Ungh.

Install

2010-08-19T22:10:00.001-07:00

In other news: installing my rack was WAY harder than I thought it would be. Boo.

Panniers

2010-08-19T22:05:00.000-07:00

I have accidentally become a bike commuter.

And, I ride with my laptop, etc, in a messenger bag that I wear across my back.

I've decided I want panniers (or saddle bags), so I bought a rack, now I just need to find panniers that I like. Though, truth be told, I may end up just making my own, since I'm just that picky. Could be fun, too.

Open

2010-08-19T08:27:00.001-07:00

"I dated a gay guy in college..." usually a guaranteed conversation pauser. In this case, these words were uttered to my gay neighbor—who just about chocked on his coffee. "Wow! You're really open!"

"Well," I said (and, it was about time I uttered these words, "I went to BYU, so I was more his beard and less his girlfriend. But, yeah, I'm generally really open."

It's funny, sometimes I feel like I have to 'come out' about being Mormon. He's seen me dressed up in dresses post-church on Sundays (and even commented a time or two about how nice I look), and he knows I don't drink, and, when I moved in the missionaries were helping me; so there have been all sorts of little indications that I may be religious, and possibly even LDS, but the trepidation of how people receive that news is occasionally greater than I'd like.

I'm sure it doesn't change anything in our relationship, except now I don't feel that I have to dance around that subject as delicately as I have in the past.

"Yeah, I kind of got that about you, otherwise I wouldn't have been as open as I have been with you." he replied.

We laughed and I carried on with the story which lead to the big reveal.

Charity

2010-08-18T22:01:00.000-07:00

At the finish line Cyclist turned to me and said, "Wait, that was for Charity?"

Yup.

"Cool!"

I'm glad it was a good cause. My theory on things that raise money for charities is this, if I'm looking at doing something, and it happens to be raising money for charity I make sure it's a charity that I don't mind supporting, then I jump right in. If, on the other hand, it's not a charity I support, then I'll find a different event in which to participate. Figure, what's the worst that can happen? I support a good cause and have fun doing it?

Swim for Life

2010-08-18T21:31:00.000-07:00

The Puget Sound Blood Center put on a Swim for Life to raise money for the Bone Marrow Transplant Registry. What this means is: pay 50 bucks for the privilege of swimming 2 1/2 miles across Lake Washington on a Wednesday morning, and your registration fee goes to their registry.

When a friend of mine asked me if I was interested in the swim I told her quite honestly that, no, I'm not a swimmer. Then, it was suggested that I might be interested in being a safety kayaker. Well, that sounded fun, so I looked into it a bit more. It worked out like this: teams of up to four people could swim together and, hopefully provide a boater to paddle with them for safety.

I was in. All I had to do was round up a team.

I convinced 4 of my friends to do it, with one as an alternate. In the end, the girl who suggested we swim backed out and her husband took her place. And, the alternate ended up swimming for someone else. Our fourth member backed out a week before the swim. But, that was all ok, because the three guys that swam were all relatively evenly paced, which was ideal.

We practiced two or three times a week for three weeks. Each practice was in the lake and presented a fun and interesting challenge, not the least of which was that I was in a white water boat on flat water—it's not made to cut through waves, so I was constantly knocked about.

For our last practice we decided to go for 2 miles, which amounted to two out-and-back trips to a known 1 mile mark. On our second trip one of the swimmers got a leg cramp. He freaked out and after I circled him for a couple of minutes and insisted that he hang on to my boat until the cramp passed, he finally put a hand on the boat. I was relieved—no one dying on my watch. I ended up towing him back to the swim area. In the end, he was safe, but was very careful to get enough potassium and sodium to prevent any cramping during the event.

The morning of the swim (today) dawned early. I had to get out of bed and get moving at 5am. Some awesome coordination, and we all carpooled over to the East side of the lake for the swim.

There were over 250 swimmers, and 80 teams (including kayakers). And, roughly 1 power boat for every 5 teams. And chop. The sky was overcast, the wind was blowing, and the chop on the lake was intimidating. Amazingly, the water temperature was quite pleasant!

Since the guys figured a slow but steady pace we were in the last wave of swimmers to cross the lake. About 3/4 of a mile out the wave had started to spread out and it had become apparent that a small group of 3 or 4 teams were going to swim pretty much together. Just as we were settling into our comfortable stride, and a frequent scanning of swimmers to check for my own, a lone swimmer came up to the outside of my boat. After a few minutes I asked her, "did you lose your team?" She replied she had, and I said, "If you swim in the middle area there we can all keep an eye on you." She did as instructed and I called over to another boater to let him know she was there so he could also keep an eye on her. He seemed less than interested.

As the distance passed our group split up into teams, with two of the teams pulling ahead, and one falling behind us. The single swimmer tried to keep up with the teams ahead, but they didn't know (or, in one case, didn't care) that she was there. With every scan of my team I kept an eye on her, watching her pull further and further from me, and yet fall further and further behind the boat she was tailing. Finally, she was getting dangerously off course, and quite alone. I called to my team and told them I was going after her, and I'd be right back for them. Then I took off. I frequently looked over my shoulder to make sure they were ok, and at one point another kayaker paddled up to them and said (I later found out), "You guys look a little lonely." They reassured him that I'd be back, but I'm glad he was there keeping an eye out for them. I paddled up to the woman and invited her to swim with us, "I don't want to separate you from your team," she insisted. "Oh, we'll be fine." She thanked me, but didn't seem to eager to get on their course.

Fortunately, she was far left of my team, and Cyclist tends to swim left. So, we let him drag the team towards her until they converged and I was much more easily able to keep an eye on all four swimmers.

At shore she thanked me for keeping an eye on her and told me how she had come to be swimming alone. Apparently, her mother flagged out very early on, and the kayaker had to stay with her until a power boat could pick her up, but none of the other swimmers knew this, so they all kept swimming and dispersed. Honestly, I'm glad I could help, but how could the swimmers not know what was going on? My guys were constantly checking for each other. Quite reassuring.

Total, it took us roughly two hours, and no one cramped up or nearly died. Plus, honestly, having the lone swimmer to worry about made my trip across the lake a bit more exciting because I was constantly fretting about her safety and analyzing the situation. The waves were also a bit...interesting. Thankfully the water was warm, so as the splashed over the top of my boat (and me) I wasn't cold.

Would I do it again? Totally.

Tent

2010-08-08T19:14:00.000-07:00

REI had a killer sale.

I had a ridiculous dividend.

And, I needed a tent.

I walked away with The North Face Mountain 25 for about $100 out of pocket. I considered it a giant win, and took it out on its maiden voyage last night.

I fell in love with five things about this tent (pretty much all last night):
1. It's warm. Ok, ok, it's a mountaineering tent, of course it's warm. But, it's still nice to know.
2. (Properly ventilated) it doesn't gather condensation on the inside. Makes for a dry morning.
3. The zipper pulls glow in the dark! This means no fumbling for the zippers when trying to climb out of the tent for a mid-night tree run.
4. The guylines are reflective. With my headlamp, my tent just called to me in the dark. It was unexpectedly really cool.
5. The poles are color coded to match their sleeves. It's nearly idiot-proof!

It's a great little (actually, for two people, it's quite roomy) tent. And, with that price tag, it oughtta be!

Commune

2010-08-08T18:31:00.000-07:00

There's something about the woods that calls to me. When things just aren't right with my soul the proven solution can be found in the forest. So, when things, once again, were getting overwhelming, and I needed to realign I headed for the hills—literally.

My evil plan was to head to Horseshoe Basin in the Northern Cascades. I learned a bit too late that I had taken the long-cut, and ended up at a car camp ground in a place called Long Swamp. It was a few miles from the trail head I was headed to, but I was tired and really just needed the mountain air more than I needed to go backpacking. I pulled in, set up my tent, lighted a fire, cooked my delectable vegan hobo dinner, and treated myself to ash biscuits with jam (the jam part was the treat).

I went to bed before the sun, and woke up after it. Refreshed and feeling whole. I toyed with the idea of actually going for a hike, but in the end, I just packed up and headed home.

I've decided I really need to get out more, there is little words can do to capture the void I feel without them at my center.

50 Miles

2010-07-03T17:43:00.000-07:00

I decided to put in a 50 miler today to see how the knee is doing and if it could do the STP.

Around mile 30 I was done. Not my knee. My will. I finished the last 20 miles because I told myself I would, but I also decided that I'm not ready for the STP—mentally.

So, not going.

I'm a bit disappointed, but I want to still love biking at the end of the season. So, there we are.

Stupid Freaking Knee

2010-06-28T22:34:00.001-07:00

With less than three weeks between now and the STP (Seattle to Portland bike ride) I've been side-lined. I've had bad knees since I was a teenager, and when I was at University I finally learned how to deal with them. As I've gotten older I've learned to pay attention to the warning signs and slow down when I think I'm going to have a problem.

Until last week.

I woke up Wednesday morning and my knees were feeling a little off. As I laid in bed I thought, "Oh no, this could be bad. I'll ride in anyway and see." And hopped on my bike and off I went. By the time I got to work I could hardly walk. Honestly, I don't know why I question myself.

Fast forward a week. I haven't been on the bike since Wednesday evening and if I don't do 50 miles this weekend, I'm sitting it out. I don't trust myself enough to listen to my body when I'm on that ride. I'll need to finish, even at the risk of long-lasting damage. I'm disappointed, but I'm afraid I'll do something dumb. Better, as they say, to build a fence around temptation to keep it out than to see how close you can get.

Until It's Gone

2010-06-06T19:08:00.000-07:00

This weekend a bunch of my friends took a short trip up to Lopez Island where a friend of one of us has a yurt she let us borrow. It was to be a bike trip.

We drove from Seattle to Anacortes, parked our cars, and boarded the ferry with naught but our bikes and change of clothes strapped to either ourselves or the bikes. We had been told the island was flat, so imagine our surprise when the first thing that greeted us was a huge hill.

After a scrumptious dinner we headed to the yurt. We nearly immediately hit a huge hill, and 3/4 of the way up I had a massive asthma attack. It was pretty bad, especially since I don't carry an inhaler. The rest of the ride through rolling hills that normally wouldn't cause me much difficulty was torturous. Each breath wasn't deep enough, and the expanding of my lungs just ached. By the time we hit the yurt I was sapped of energy. I changed into clean clothes and sunk into a chair, determined to move as little as possible.

As I sat there, half wallowing half trying to just breathe I realized that the one thing I wanted above everything was Bill. I wanted him to take care of me the way I didn't realize until just then that he does when I need it. A couple of the girls insist that he's in love with me, and they cite as evidence the way he dotes on me. I honestly never really saw it until he wasn't there when I needed him to be. And none of my friends who were there were offering the comfort that I knew he would.

Oh, Me? I'm Fine

2010-05-26T20:43:00.001-07:00

I went home early from work today, and as I was doing so ran into Bill in the elevator lobby.

I have been home for 7 hours and haven't heard from him. I know it's selfish and unfair, but I really wish he'd check in on me.

He's not going to.

Drinks

2010-05-26T20:36:00.000-07:00

I found out via twitter that my old boss (from my very first grown-up job!) was starting a new job at Microsoft. He's based out of their Utah office, but had to come up here for new employee orientation. We decided to get together to just say 'hi' and catch up a little.

We ended up at a bar. Why? 10 pm Sunday night is the only time we could get together, that's why.

The silliness of two Mormons having non-alcoholic drinks at a bar on Sunday night was not lost on us.

Running into a coworker unexpectedly, however, was, well, weird. I should mention that the boss is married, and was wearing his wedding ring. So, what my coworker saw was, me having drinks with a not unattractive married man in a dimly lighted bar on a Sunday night. I introduced them and explained that the boss was starting a new job and was just out here for orientation. I hope he doesn't think something is up.

Oh, and, it was really great to see him. I really like him, and I'm glad he's doing well.

Ridiculousness

2010-05-26T20:30:00.001-07:00

I went home from work early today as a result of the concussion. And, just as I was about to text my blind date for the evening to cancel, he beat me to the punch.

The good news is: I don't look like a jerk for canceling. Also, since I'm busy until next week, I look super desirable (?). Ok, at least hard to pin down.

Broomball

2010-05-26T19:53:00.000-07:00

For one of my friends' birthday we went and played broomball. Now, if you're like me, you've never heard of this sport. Allow me to expound: Soccer. Hockey. Ice. Tennis shoes.

It was a blast! And, by the end of the game I was confident enough to run on the ice. And, promptly lost the battle with friction. When I slipped it was onto my back, and I went down hard. The smack of my helmet was loud and echoed throughout the entire arena. It took me a couple of seconds, but I was back up and playing straight away.

And then, the headache. It felt like combination pre-migraine and sinus headache.

A visit to my doctor Monday afternoon confirmed what I was afraid of: I have a concussion. Usually I can just shake off injuries, but this is ridiculous. I have a headache, I'm dizzy, I can hardly focus for more than an hour on any one task, and I feel totally off my game. At one point this afternoon I stood up to talk to my dev manager about something and got so dizzy that I had to sit down and rest my head for a minute.

Oh, and I'm grounded from: broomball, running, biking, or anything that is going to jar my head or requires a lot of balance. Turns out that running stairs this morning was a bad idea.

That Didn't Last Long

2010-05-26T19:46:00.000-07:00

Chick now has a key. I'm glad he waited until I moved out.

She, on the other hand, doesn't know that I still have one. How do I know this? When Bill told me she had a key it went like this, "Well, if you need the level from my place, Chick should be there. So you can knock on the door and she can let you in."

Yup.

Interesting Side Note

2010-05-04T23:07:00.000-07:00

Chick still doesn't have a key to Bill's house.

Keys

2010-05-04T22:59:00.000-07:00

I finished moving out of Bill's house tonight.

I went over after work and picked up the last of my food from the pantry and cleaned my old room. He got home just as I was finishing up, and helped me carry some stuff to my car. Then Chick showed up. Before she came in the house he gave me a hug good night, since he wouldn't be allowed to once she was around. Then we went out to the garage to look at something he thought was mine. We ended up chatting for a bit before heading back into the house so I could get the last of my stuff and he could hang out with Chick. He gave me another good night hug, and I headed upstairs as he headed to his room.

Upstairs I packed up the last box as he came up to make a protein shake. We chatted for a bit, then I said, "keys," as I grabbed my key ring.

"Why don't you go ahead and hang on to that," he said. I'm not sure he knows how much that means to me. I'm not sure I know how much that means to me. What I do know is this: I got a little choked up when he said that. Then, I took off the key to my bedroom to return, as well as the spare key to my house. I gave him both.

I'm not sure he values that key as much as I value his, but, I do.

Revelations

2010-04-30T22:09:00.000-07:00

An evening with Bill and Chick this week included him using the "L-word" in her direction. When she left the room I commented on it. "Yeah, that happened a while ago. Sorry I didn't tell you."

"I'm not surprised," I simply replied.

"Oh, why not? Because we're so close?"

"I wouldn't call it 'close'. You're just schmoopy and all over each other." While those are true statements, that's not how I knew.

The next night Bill and I were at my new house putting up tape in preparation of painting. "You know how you asked last night why I wasn't surprised you tell Chick you love her? I knew when you dropped your bike. You called her, and I found out when I got home."

"Really?"

"Yup, I knew then."

"I called her first? Did that bother you?"

"You didn't even call me," I said with a sad smile. "And, yes, it bothered me a bit. But I didn't bring it up to make you feel bad and apologize. I just thought you should know when I knew."

Much later, back at home, we were headed to bed when he stopped me, said "Come here, I want to give you a hug." I turned (we hug good night nearly every night, but it was interesting that he insisted). As we embraced he said, "You're still my best friend in the world. You know that, right?" Then he pulled back a little, looked down at me, "I mean it. That hasn't changed." Then pulled me back in for a longer hug.

I know that hasn't changed, but our relationship has.

Plus One

2010-04-23T17:25:00.001-07:00

A friend is putting together dinner plans for the evening. The Romanian is still in town, so I invited him. When the email invite went around I replied, "in +1".

It feels very strange to have my +1 not be Bill.

I Was Right

2010-04-19T22:50:00.001-07:00

8 pm. Sunday night. I called Mumsy (as I do pretty much every Sunday).

"Where have you been all day?" she demanded.

"Why do you assume I've been somewhere?"

"Riding your bike."

"Why do you assume I've been out?" I tried to dodge the question.

"You have been, haven't you."

"Yup."

"Ok. Well, I'm on the other line to your brother, so I have to go. I'll call you back later."

We signed off. But, because I was driving, I didn't hang up the phone and let her disconnect the line. Before she did I heard her say to my brother, "I was right..."

Later, when we were chatting, Mumsy said that she had told my brother when I called that I had probably been out riding my bike all day. He thought this was funny, since I refused to learn to ride as a kid, and now, I'm a huge cycling nut.

Yes, Seattle has changed me. But, for the better, mostly, I hope.

First Ride of the Season

2010-04-19T22:47:00.000-07:00

Yesterday was the first real training ride of the season. 25 miles in 2 1/2 hours. Yes, that is a supernally unimpressive speed. The point wasn't speed or distance, it was saddle time.

You know why?

Because my lady-bits are raw from that short jaunt. That's why.

How am I going to ride 200 miles, if 25 makes me uncomfortable?

The good news? I felt much better this morning, and even took my bike out for a quick errand this evening.

It's Not Maternal

2010-04-19T22:39:00.000-07:00

Bill hurt his shoulder pretty badly today (he's not sure exactly what he did, but he's in a lot of pain). When he came home from the gym he wasn't moving his arm and he had some topical pain cream as well as some pain killers. I sat him down, gave him an ice pack, helped him open the ibuprofen, and then rubbed the ointment on his arm.

"Thanks for helping me with this, Granola," he managed through pain clenched teeth, "you're going to make a great mom someday."

Carrie

2010-04-16T22:47:00.000-07:00

Sunday night I noticed that some meat Bill had purchased and stored, uncooked, in his drawer in the fridge had gotten quite bloody. He had purchased two large cuts of meat, one in his drawer, and another he had stashed on top of a shelf in the main compartment of the refrigerator.

I asked him to please take care of it because, honestly, it was gross.

Monday evening I came home, made dinner, and reached under the second flat of raw meat to grab my orange juice.

At that moment the bag that was damming back the flood of blood slipped and blood poured, splashed, and tumbled out of the bag, and down the entirety of the fridge, a la Carrie.

It was disgusting. Horrible. And quite aggravating.

Also, I was pissed.

My only action was to clean the refrigerator.

My roommate came down moments after the shower of blood, and asked me what was going on. I was too upset to be polite, so I sent her off to the gym and got down to business. I emptied out the fridge and scrubbed it down with vinegar water.

When Bill came home I had just finished cleaning and reassembling the fridge. I ran into him as I was taking the last of the trash out. "Hey, I'm going to take care of the meat in the fridge," he greeted. Clearly, he could tell I was upset, so he headed upstairs and when I joined him in the kitchen to finish cleaning he asked me what he could do to help me clean.

I was so upset, but logically, it was hard to remain mad—he could tell I was upset, and headed to address the concern straight away. And, honestly, I asked him to take care of it, and the very next day he was going to.

Emotions won out.

Lost!

2010-04-11T20:30:00.000-07:00

We have a colleague visiting from Romania this week. Since he's the only one, I asked him Friday night if he had plans. He didn't, so I told him that Bill was going to go rock climbing, and I'm sure he could go if he wanted to. He said, "if you're not going, I'm not going." Well, I couldn't let him sit home alone, so I told him that I wasn't sure what I was doing, but he was welcome to join us.

We ended up going to some pub for dinner to celebrate someone's promotion. We had had an energetic evening and I was feeling a bit loopy. Afterwords I was going to give my coworker a ride home, but he disappeared. One of my friends pointed down the street, "I think he went that way."

Worried, I headed in the direction she indicated looking for him. The entire time repeating over and over, "I lost the Romanian!!"

In the end, I figured since he walked to dinner he probably was able to find his way back to the hotel. He did. But, really, how does one lose a Romanian?!

All Dressed Up

2010-04-11T20:09:00.000-07:00

Today was to be day 1 of our STP training rides. Teach and MrTeach had to go out of town last minute, so they wouldn't be there. I hadn't seen any emails about it all week, but figured we'd still go.

On my way home from church I sent an email to the group to confirm. Then I sent a text to Cyclist to ask if he was still planning on it. Assuming we were still on, I got onto my bike gear and was putting my bike rack on the car. Just as I was about to head out he replied—they thought everyone (not sure who 'they' and 'everyone' are, but ok) backed out, so they went early.

I'm really disappointed and bummed. It's a beautiful day for a bike ride, but it's hard to go by yourself.

Instead, I tuned up my other bike—it still needs a ton of work before it's ride-able.

Snoop

2010-04-09T20:05:00.000-07:00

20% of couples in committed relationships admit that they snoop in their partner's email or text messages.

Or is it 36%? Or 45?

The number keeps getting bigger and bigger, suggesting that more and more people are snooping. And, somehow, that makes it ok.

Growing up, Mumsy always maintained that we had no right to privacy, but our privacy was still important to her. I don't know if she ever violated my privacy, but I always knew she would if she felt she needed to.

Now, as an adult, privacy is a huge issue for me. I've never wanted to know my boyfriends' passwords, or pin numbers. Once ExOfNote told me his—I think as an effort to show me how much he trusted me. I didn't even try to remember it. I also didn't tell him mine.

Bill and I occasionally look over the other's shoulder when we're typing in our phone pins, and even guess at the other person's pin. But, as soon it's guessed, we change it. At one point Bill knew my pin and I left it for a week or so before changing it. Not because I don't trust him, but because locks keep honest people honest.

One night recently Bill left his phone unlocked, and his text messages to Chick open when he left the room. I scrolled through his messages. I'm not convinced that what I did was right, but, was it unexpected?

The thing about snooping is that you often learn things you wish you hadn't, or, if you discover nothing you become more suspicious. If you can't handle what you find (or may find) don't snoop.

But, what does all of this have to do with me? The fact that I wouldn't dream of snooping in our roommate's stuff combined with my earlier actions puts me in an interesting mental exercise—yes, Bill and I are close, and yes, we fill many emotional needs for each other, but, we're not in a committed relationship. Or, are we?

Grown Up

2010-04-05T22:07:00.000-07:00

After a 9 month (this time) search, I have finally made and had accepted, an offer on a house. I have combed Seattle from one end to the other looking for an amazing contemporary home with spectacular windows and bamboo flooring. What I ended up with is a spectacular traditional home with lovely windows, a fabulous kitchen, and wainscoting.

It is the antithesis of what I was looking for, but it is great.

After I walked through it the first time I knew it was too good to pass up, and I would be very foolish to not make an offer.

In the end, they accepted an offer of $430k, which is down from the original list price of $660k. Yes, I made out like a bandit.

These next three weeks are going to be super crazy and busy as I sign documents, paint, and move it. I'm so excited I can hardly contain myself!

Logic

2010-04-05T21:56:00.000-07:00

I interviewed with another team within my company last week. I've worked with the lead coordinating our teams' efforts for the past three years and think the world of him. The prospect of working for him was just too wonderful to pass up.

He was equally excited, to the point of asking his director to realign some roles so I would have a place on the team.

We had a number of long conversations about the team, and my current team, and why I'm looking to change. I cited my increasing frustration with lack of consistent management in addition to the feeling that it's very hard to get promoted in my current organization.

Interviews went well—only two little hiccups, which I think I recovered from quite well. And he and I scheduled a meeting to talk about how things went.

In the end he told me, "It's not going to work out, but not for the reasons you think." He went on to tell me that I did great, and my code was wonderful, and I really knocked his socks off with at least two solutions. But, "and, this is something I'm keeping quiet for now, I'm leaving the company next month, and then, you'd be right back where you are—with minimal management, and I'd hate to do you that disservice."

Argh! It's like being dumped because the person you're with thinks they don't deserve you. Possibly true, bit I'd rather do the rejecting, thankyouverymuch.

Trying So Hard

2010-04-01T21:51:00.000-07:00

It's Bill's birthday this month and our friends and I are plotting an awesome activity. We've kind of settled on Whirlyball which, frankly, sounds awesome!

I decided that, though she hasn't met any of them, it would be a good idea (and gesture) to invite (Bill's) Chick. Last night we were all sitting in the living room when Bill took a call and left the room. She and I sat in silence watching the movie, then I realized my opportunity had presented itself. "Hey, Chick?" I started, "A group of us are planning on taking Bill to play whirlyball for his birthday next Saturday, wanna come?"

Understandably, she asked, "What the hell is whirlyball?" After my brief description she replied in disgust, "That sounds like a terrible idea!!"

"No, see, it's on an enclosed track..."

"Have you seen the way people in Seattle drive?" again, with the horror and disgust.

Irritated with her juvenile reaction I decided to skip the convincing and went straight for, "Yup. So, we're talking about next Saturday. We haven't finalized the time, yet, but I can let you know when we do, and you can come if you want."

Some discussion on her work schedule ensued. She gave me her phone number, and incentive to make sure the only time that works is when she can't make it.

I'm trying, dammit, why is she making it so hard?

The Battle Lost

2010-03-31T21:49:00.000-07:00

Bill was in a minor accident today. He was riding his motorcycle and some idiot cut him off and in order to avoid a massive collision he laid his bike down.

I found this out when I got home to discover a very angry Bill. After he calmed down enough to speak I learned one very important thing: he contacted his chick first.

In short, I have been replaced. If there was ever a battle for his affection I have lost it. The realization is bittersweet, but not unexpected.

And, when she breaks him, my role will be resumed. I should know better, but I'll let it happen. Only to be cast aside, once again, in short order.

Dramah Much?

2010-03-19T19:11:00.000-07:00

Bill's girl.

Asian (at this point, are we really surprised).
Size 2 (generously, she's probably smaller).
19 (ouch!).
And, has a very interesting take on how to do her eye makeup (as in—she probably goes through an eyeliner pencil a month).

Oh, also, a little bratty.

Case in point:
I've been nothing but pleasant to her the few times we've really interacted. But, mostly, I make myself scarce, to give them some privacy (since they're still at that point). One morning Bill and I were getting ready for the day, preparing our lunches and dinners in the kitchen. She was standing there, saying nothing. I offered her some cereal and her "oh, no thanks, I'm good" was actually, "nah." Um... ok? So far, whatever, it was early morning. However, fast forward a week. She was standing in our kitchen as Bill was finishing up some stuff so they could go out for the evening. He told her this silly idea that he has (which he couched with "this is silly and would never work, and would be a huge waste of energy and resources, but wouldn't it be cool if..."). She immediately when into dramatic overdrive. "DISGUSTING!" and "EWE THE HUMIDITY" and on and on and on. I was embarrassed for her and confused and had no way to make it stop. Bill, for his part, didn't seem phased. Minutes later when I asked about her day she went into bitch mode. Seriously honey, you've talked to me all of four times. You don't get to bitch at me like I actually care.

Two days later, she and Bill locked themselves out of the house, so I had to open the door for them. I said hello and chatted briefly, then headed to the kitchen. Bill announced he was going to use the washroom, and she chose to sit on his bed and wait. When it became apparent that he really meant, "Imma be a while" she moved to the living room and camped out there, instead of joining me and our two other house guests (Bill's friends) in the kitchen.

I'm pretty sure she doesn't like me.

Bill thinks "she's doesn't dislike you."

Bill is wrong. Girls measure and judge and weigh and few snubbings are ever 'accidental' (mine included). She doesn't like me. Who knows why, but she's going to have to get over it if she wants to be with him.

On the flip side, I find her to be immature and a bit irritating (which really has most everything to do with the fact that she's immature, and with her eye makeup looking like she thinks people are actually supposed to dress like Vogue models in public, it's impossible to take her seriously). I'm afraid I'm going to have to get over it, if she sticks around. Why? Because I value Bill's and my relationship. And, when she's gone, I'm going to have to pick up the pieces—boy has fallen hard.

Minus the yellow eyeshadow, this is pretty much what her makeup looks like. Tragically, for her, the model is much more attractive than chick is.

Solo Symphony

2010-03-19T19:05:00.000-07:00

About a year ago I bought my season tickets for the symphony. Bill thought it was a great idea and bought a pair for himself as well. The plan was: we take dates and double. And, if we can't find dates/we don't look, then we exchange one pair, and go together.

This has worked out pretty well.

Until today.

I currently have two tickets, and Bill is seeing a girl, which means: I have been desperately trying to find a date for tonight. At this point, one of my friends may come, but only if the book signing she's at ends early enough. Otherwise I'm going stag.

Normally, I don't mind going to things by myself. The problem here is mostly Bill's girlfriend. She has managed to come across snotty in the few times we've interacted, and, frankly, I don't want to feel like I have to spend an evening with her (our seats are together). I spent yesterday and today trying to find someone to take as a date, and (after hitting epic rock bottom) finally called some girl friends to ask if they might be interested. If I end up going by myself, I'm showing up 5 minutes til and sitting in not my assigned seat. When Bill asks I'll just have to come up with some creative reason why I didn't sit with them.

This is, tragically, and frustratingly, moderately pathetic.

Moving Out Moving On

2010-03-14T13:20:00.000-07:00

It's hard to describe, but things have been a bit rocky at home lately. I don't know what's going on, but it's been hard to deal with.

The other day Bill and I were talking and I asked him if he wanted me to move out. He said, no, of course not; and asked why I asked. I replied that he seemed to be indicating that he wanted me to move—things like complaining about things which haven't been an issue before, and mentioning (multiple times) that a friend of a friend is looking for a place to rent, and he could probably rent my room for $400-500 more than I'm currently paying.

We talked about this.

And, in the end, he said he wanted to raise my rent, and have me sign a lease. To which I had to tell him that the appeal of my current living situation is the rent plus lack of lease. And, if he took away my incentives, I would have to move out.

Thus, I am moving out at the end of April.

I have no idea what I'm going to do, or where I'm going to live, but I have to stand my ground.

As much as I feel like a jerk for saying it, I don't think he's going to get as much as he wants for my room. If he does, I'll be thrilled for him that I was wrong. If he doesn't, I'll feel bad for him, but he did force my hand on this one. Sometimes people forget that what you have is had, and what you see might not be obtainable.

The really sad thing about all of this is that I feel we're slowly losing our friendship, and when I move out, I don't think we're going to see each other as much as he thinks we will. I hate to lose him, but I don't know how to keep him.

Dinner Party

2010-03-14T13:01:00.000-07:00

A friend and I decided to have a dinner party for some of the women we used to go to church with years ago. Her place was too small, so I offered to host. Last night was the big day, and, though it was a potluck, I definitely wanted to be sure that there was going to be enough food for everyone.

Not sure what to make, I reached for my standby cookbook. Vegan with a Vengeance. From that I made a delicious asparagus and sun-dried tomatoes 'frittata' as well as an amazing carrot cake. The internet gave me this delicious vegan chocolate fondue. Though, I didn't have any vegan chocolate, so I substituted vegan carob chips. It was a very rich flavor.

All-in-all, the dinner was a raging success. Yea!

Instincts

2010-03-03T20:17:00.000-08:00

My ability to tell if a boy likes me is worse only than my ability to show a boy that I like him.

This in mind, when Bill and I met a ridiculously cute boy on the bus who seemed like he may be interested in me, Bill pushed and encouraged me to pursue him. In the end, it turns out the very cute boy is interested in me only as a friend.

This is why I don't go after guys all that aggressively—things usually end with me in the losing corner.

Granted

2010-02-16T21:23:00.000-08:00

There are certain things we take for granted. Things we learn in our youth, and assume everyone else did too.

How to tie your shoes...

How to brush your teeth...

How to button your shirt...

How to pee in the woods...

Ok, well, I assumed everyone learned that last one. Apparently not.

For my birthday a bunch of my friends and I went backpacking to this really great cabin. As we hit the trail head Teach revealed she had a problem—she had to pee. Her husband and the other three guys with us were no help. It came down to me. The teacher had become the student, and I got to be the one to teach a grown woman how to pee in the woods.

Thankfully, she's a bright woman, because the instruction was entirely verbal. There was no way on this green earth I was going to demonstrate proper peeing in the woods technique. She was worried about the whole thing, but managed to take care of things without requiring a change of attire. I was quite proud.

Also, I shall make sure that my girls learn that early on.

Ditto

2010-02-10T12:21:00.000-08:00

What she said...
Some Girls Have All the (Un)luck

Put Your Behind in the Past

2010-02-01T22:27:00.000-08:00

Christmas week ExOfNote emailed me.

This was not, you probably won't be surprised to learn, an eventuality I was ever prepared for.

We exchanged a couple of emails via facebook, but then I didn't reply. Why not? Because I didn't know what to say, or how. What was I supposed to tell him? That he ripped me apart? That it took years to get over him, and I'm not sure I'm fully there yet? That I've moved on—that I had to. That since him I've loved and lost, and loved again?

He finally caught up with me on facebook one evening. We im'ed for a bit, I didn't know what to say, so I kept it casual. We talked about what we had each been up to, career-wise, and where we were living. He didn't remember that I moved to Seattle, and what company I work for. He asked if I had been dating anyone, I said yes. Then we talked about my living situation: two roommates, one boy, one girl. I allowed him to come to the conclusion that Bill and I are more than just friends and housemates. I didn't lie to him, but I didn't clear anything up, either. I wanted him to know that I had moved on, and I wanted him to cut off contact, not the other way around. I had no idea what he would do if I told him I wanted nothing to do with him, but thanks anyway.

As we talked and emailed it became amazingly clear how lucky I am that I didn't end up with him after all. In the last four years he's done less than nothing with his life. It's quite sad, actually.

A couple of days after our chat I discovered that he had unfriended me on facebook (he had just friended me over Christmas). I can't say that I was terribly torn up about it—more relieved. That's a part of my life that is best left in the past.

And, finally, I can say but this: thanks for the closure, baby. I loved you when I knew you, but now that I don't know you, I can't possibly love you. Please move on, I have had to, now it's your turn.

Bus Dude and Dating Tips

2010-01-30T00:48:00.000-08:00

"Are you guys waiting for the 17 E?" The question came out of the blue, and the awkward wording let me know that the questioner wasn't familiar with the system enough to know that one usually pronounces it '17 Express'.

"Yeah, we are," I said. Bill and I made some jokes and chatted briefly, and then we, and the attractive stranger all climbed aboard the recently arrived 17E. The packed bus meant that the three of us were standing in the aisle way next to each other. We had a lovely conversation, getting to know him—he's new in town, an engineer, and (from observation) wicked smart.

He and I flirted a bit, then the conversation kind of died down and we didn't really have much to say to each other. I was trying to figure out a good way to get invite him to do something sometime when Bill leaned over and whispered in my ear, "You should get pretty boy's phone number." I did end up suggesting we all do something, and to do that, we exchanged numbers.

A couple days later, I called him up to ask him to join Bill and me for dinner and maybe mini golf. He accepted.

It would appear that I have become the aggressor, but the problem is: I have no idea how to pursue anyone. So, to that end, Bill has been 'coaching' me. It's a bit lame, and I feel awkward and silly having Bill there giving me advice. But, it seems to be working, so, I guess we'll see.

Selfish

2010-01-30T00:22:00.000-08:00

Bill has a friend who I find kind of goofy, immature, and moderately irritating. Said friend has a birthday this week sometime—I'm still not sure what day it is.

He has decided to have three days of different parties, all with the same people invited. The first of these parties started Thursday night, with the last one anticipated Saturday evening.

While I think this is a bit over the top and strange it wouldn't bother me nearly as much as it does, if Saturday weren't my big (as in 30th) birthday. I find it amusing, and ever so slightly annoying, that I am jealous that I have to share my birthday with this dude. Couple that with the fact that Cyclist's birthday is the 2nd, and so he's having his festivities tomorrow night (yeah, on my birthday), and I have a few too many jealousy issues to work through.

Let's not forget that I'm dragging 7 of my closest friends up the side of a mountain to celebrate (anyone have a good recipe for vegan birthday cake best cooked at, say, 4,760 feet?). Or the fact that Bill is plotting something fairly extravagant for Sunday night. But, the thing is—Saturday is my day, and I feel totally immature for being jealous about sharing. Also, a bit sad that Bill isn't taking me out to a nice dinner to celebrate this year.

Thus, I put it to you—who's the selfish one here? I don't think it's limited to just three-days-of-parties boy.

Delay

2009-12-26T20:33:00.000-08:00

My flight home landed at 8:45 am. Mumsy and Dad were supposed to meet me, but two days before my flight Mumsy told me that she wouldn't be there on time to pick me up. I landed 3 hours from where they live, and she had previously told me that she wanted me to come in early in the morning. So, I answered her request, and then she decided that it was too early. I was pissed.

I called the night before I took off to make sure she'd pick me up on time, and she said they would try. I called that morning to make sure they were up on time. They were.

After all that, they were 3 hours late picking me up.

Did you catch that math? They left right before I landed. I was more pissed than words can adequately capture. Had she told me (honestly) that they were really going to be that late, I wouldn't have gone home.

I think the thing that irritates me the most is the the utter bait and switch ("we'll do our best to be there," when they had no intention of actually trying) which was so typical of her mother. A trait that irritated my mother—is it any wonder that it irritates me when I see it in her?

Truth in Fiction

2009-12-26T20:19:00.000-08:00

I've gotten hooked on Dollhouse. As I sit here in the airport waiting for my very delayed fight (2 hours, thankyouverymuch) I'm watching the latest episodes. Truth sometimes rings through the words of fiction, and tonight's episode (season 2, episode 8, for the curious) brings us this nugget:

One man is accusing another of being in love with a girl (who, it turns out, he very much is). In a moment of anger (and humor) he accuses: "For months you shared the same room with her, and you didn't sleep with her, even though you could have. If that's not love... are you gay?" Came the reply, "Heh, no."

Rejected

2009-12-21T22:46:00.000-08:00

After a very drama-full day filled with lots of phone calls regarding loans, offers, counter offers, and counter-counter offers, the whole thing finally came to a head at 8:30 this evening when my Realtor called me to tell me that the owner had emailed her and told her that he had received another offer, and from the sounds of it, he was going to take it. We did, at one point, prior to her getting his email but after he sent it, send him a brand new offer. So, there is still the possibility, but it's vanishingly small.

Interestingly, I'm not terribly disappointed. I didn't want to pay what he was asking (and what I finally ended up offering), so now I don't have to pay it. I guess I don't have to be a grown up after all.

Offer

2009-12-20T20:51:00.000-08:00

I have made an offer on a house. I'm very nervous! When did I get to be a grown up?

The closing date is set for 3 days before my birthday, so I may spend my birthday weekend packing, painting, and moving. Maybe Bill will let me stay into Feb. Well, I know he will, but he'll charge me rent. Bah!

Moment of Silence

2009-12-20T20:37:00.000-08:00

A girl friend called me last night to chit-chat. Over the course of the conversation she told me that her car had died, as had her fiancee's. They're getting married in 2 weeks, and this is just one more thing they don't have time to deal with.

I offered to lend her my minivan, Willie. The same minivan that my aunt and uncle gave me right after I graduated college. As I was offering her the van to borrow, I changed my mind, "Actually, do you just WANT it?"

She agreed to borrow it, and we decided she'd come by tonight to pick it up. When she got here I had the title in hand and said, "Here's everything you need, and here's the title. I really want you to have it." She accepted it, but insisted that she pay me. I told her I'd take $50.

So, let's all have a moment of silence for the passing of the torch. Willie treated me well while he was mine, hopefully he's not a scourge to his new owners. I hope they appreciate him as much I as did when he was mine.

What's in a Name?

2009-11-30T21:29:00.000-08:00

During dinner preparation, Mumsy asked Bill to grab something off the top shelf (he's a bit tall).

"Would you grab this for me, ExOfNote? Bill." she asked. I caught her eye and smiled, she looked mortified. I don't think Bill noticed.

Whoops.

On Icons

2009-11-30T21:16:00.000-08:00

Looking at a posted map of Yosemite while trying to find the place to pick up our wilderness permit, Bill saw this image and asked what it was for.

I said, "It's an amphitheater."

"Oh," he replied, disappointed, "I was hoping it was wifi."

Why did he think that? Well, he was hoping, and, after all, this image for wifi looks similar... -ish?

Name Reverted

2009-11-30T21:08:00.000-08:00

that is all.