Pocket Aces

Greetings, Earthlings.

Do you know what I just did? It was the craziest thing. Marc and I were driving home from work late this afternoon (yes, I work now.) (yes, I work at the same place as my husband.) (yes, I know that is a recipe for disaster - more on that later.) and I was feeling BAD - queasy stomach, headache, that droopy-bone tiredness. As we were driving home, I thought back to 2004, the last time I worked in the city. I was working at Maryland General, and Marc and I would commute into Baltimore together from where we lived in Annapolis. I was pregnant, only 8 weeks or so in, and feeling terrible. The whole ride into the city in the morning would consist of me nibbling graham crackers and sipping ginger ale, a walking cliche - it really was the only thing I could stomach. I would get to work and moan at my desk and be so happy I had a student to go do evaluations for me because my usual iron stomach that allowed me to stand the smell in some of those hospital rooms was long gone. And by the end of the day, when I would drive down to Fell's Point to pick him up, I was so bone tired that I would stumble over to the passenger seat and invariably fall asleep five minutes into the trip home. For about four months, it went like that. And if I didn't know better, I might have thought that I was pregnant today given how I felt. But I do know better, and no, I'm not.

Anyway. I was feeling pretty inexplicably awful and Marc and I were plotting what to do about dinner - I had some steaks planned, which he could easily handle, and I would muster up the energy to boil corn, then go lay down. He lamented briefly that I had forgotten to get some shortcake to go with the strawberries I'd gotten at the farmer's market this past weekend. I mumbled something and pretended to not care about it when suddenly all I wanted to do was make sure those strawberries got eaten while they were still in their prime, and the next thing I knew, I was digging through my vast cookbook collection for a cake recipe that I could make with the limited contents of my pantry and my small reserve of energy.

You should know - I don't make cake. I don't really bake. Sometimes I try, but my results are always, in varying degrees, subpar. It's all too precise for me, the girl who loves to read recipes but refuses to actually use one. So I found a cake recipe - Lightning Cake, it was called, perfectly - and was pleased that Marc didn't bat an eye at this strangeness because it was indeed strange. And I made that cake and do you know what I just did? I was feeling like I was coming down with the plague, and next thing you know, I made a fucking AWESOME PERFECT LITTLE PIECE OF PERFECTION of a cake. It was the craziest thing.

And then I felt tired again, and went and lay down.

But then! Oh, hi! I felt like sharing it, and what do you know? I know someone who used to blog, and she looks a lot like me. Well, actually, since it's been about 3.2 years since last she blogged, you should know that in that time she's lost 15 or so pounds, started earning paychecks, has shinier hair and whiter teeth, ran a marathon, planted some semblance of a vegetable garden and found the cure for the common cold. In her spare time, that is. (I'll let you wonder if any of those are actually true.) (Sorta, yes, no, only a 5K, yeah, and if only.)

I'll bet you were at the point where you were like, "That's it. There's no point in coming here anymore. I'm so happy that checking her lame ass site is one less thing I have to fit in my day." No, I'm not talking to you, but I am talking to YOU and YOU over there, the only 2.4 people who bother coming around here anymore. See, and now I've pulled you back in. A little nonsense from my fingertips, and you're mine again. Oh, the power.

When I logged into TypePad (helloooo, old friend!) there was a little article winking at me on the main page. "How To Increase Traffic To Your Blog". TypePad, why must you mock me?

So, yeah, I'm a working girl now. Not THAT kind of working girl. The other kind. I have a nice little part-time flexible gig that only remotely relates to anything I used to do in my former life and that is to say that I can no longer wear scrubs to work. Which is bittersweet, because while scrubs are hardly flattering, it's tough to beat going to work in your pajamas. It also means that I spend a good deal of time scared to death that I don't ruin this big new thing I've taken on while on the surface trying to have all the confidence in the world that of course, I can do this, why would you ever think I couldn't? And I'm not trying to be cryptic - I'm not sharing details of my new job because while it's not likely I'd be dooced, there is still the whole matter of this blog containing my political opinions and the occasional tendency of my fingers to hit a pattern of keys that comes out F-U-C-K and there's nothing I can do to stop it, and let's not even mention the drunken photos of myself or that one shot of my kids in the shower. Wholesome, world-saving people they are, over there in that place where I sometimes work. Why risk it?

Besides, I'm not going to be writing about work, because that's boring. The only reason you needed to know anything about it was so you could understand that it is what has been keeping us apart. But no longer! We have much to discuss, you and I.

I don't really remember what I was talking about when I started this post. The frog has descended on me again. I should go back and reread it, edit it, likely cut it all out. Yes, I meant to say "frog" up there. I said it because I sometimes substitute "frog" for "fog", like, "It's so froggy outside". I do this only around people from whom I have no expectation of being taken seriously. Obviously you are a subset of those people. I'm sorry I had to admit this to the 2.4 of you. Aren't you glad you don't have to speak to me in real life?

I'm going to lay down now.

At least I'm not like Sam the Butcher.

I went to get some running shoes yesterday, and I wish I had thought to bring along my camera so I could document for you, my gentle readers, a truly revelatory moment in my lifetime.

They had me stand on one of those foot-pressure monitor things. (If they have a name, I don't know it. Google doesn't seem to either.) If you're familiar with the wet footprint test, it's like that, only with a big fancy screen and red lights telling where you put all the weight on your feet. It will also tell you about your arches, and if you pronate, and blah blah blah.

Wanna know what it told me?

I have extra-wide feet. A simple 'wide' won't do for me. No. I have fucking Sasquatch feet. Fred Flintstone feet, with higher arches.

And, you know, four more toes. But now that I know I have extra wide feet that require men's running shoes, I'm considering losing a few.

Ok, so I've looked at my feet my whole life, and honestly I've never thought they were that bad. I must not have too much of a problem with them if they're my photo up in the corner of my blog, right? So why do I feel like somebody came in the middle of the night and gave me MAN FEET?

I need to get a grip. It does help to know that my friend Bridget seems to not actually have a left foot. I call her "Flamingo" now.

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It would make my week if someone out there - anyone (except Marc, as he already knows) - got what I am referencing in my title. Do you know? Be the first to tell me in the comments, and I'll grant... a request. That's a little odd and vague, I know, but I did it last year so at least you know my crazy is a traditional thing. What I mean is that I'll post a picture of something you request, or perform some silly antic if you like, or write glowing reviews of you for all to see. You can name it. All you have to do is tell all of the class what I'm talking about with my title. Do be specific, please.

Or, you know, nobody will know or care or be reading, and I'll get over that someday. Maybe.

What the 'L'?

Wow. What a terrible title. And you know what? I'm not gonna apologize for it. Live with it.

So it's a meme-y time of year, it seems, and they just go 'round and 'round. I like them, particularly for the kind of day/week/month when I don't have anything topical to ramble about. This one is about listing 10 things you love that start with a particular letter. I grabbed it over at Jambalaya, and the lovely wordnerd assigned me the letter 'L'.

I gotta say, 'L' was hard. I had to get Marc to help me out. I should have had 'B'. 'B' would have been a no-brainer. Here we go, in no particular order:

1. Lilacs. Not my favorite flower, visually - that honor goes to the short-lived peony - but hands down the best smelling.

2. LOST. Oh, come on. Too easy.

3. Licorice. Specifically, red. Specifically, Twizzlers.

4. Lipstick. Clinique, Raspberry Glace. I've worn the same color since high school. I'd think that was a little sad, maybe, except that I can't seem to find another color I've liked as consistently.

5. Louisville and Lafayette, CO. I wasn't born there, and I've lived other places since, but this is my hometown. They are two distinct little towns, with rivalries and everything, but really it's all one place. A certain someone I know who uses a lot of exclamation points will likely jump in the comments to list the differences between them like I don't know them, but I will just say that with time and distance, in my mind they are one now. It's where I grew up.

6. Libraries. What's not to love about a library? Stacks and stacks and STACKS of books. In college, I loved those little study carrels. Like a little private world with your books. Trouble was, then, I wasn't always reading for pleasure. I think I need a study carrel now.

7. Lennon, John. Looking purely at the Beatles years, I'm a Paul girl. But John's solo career, despite (or maybe because of) being tragically shortened, certainly packed more punch.

8. Liquor. Yes, there, I said it. I like this, and this, and sometimes even this. And just to show that I'm an equal opportunity boozer, I drink more than my share of wine and beer too.

9. Literature. Well, duh.

10. LISTS! Of stuff I love! Top 10 lists! Top 100 Songs of Any Year lists! Top 10 list of all the lists I've ever made! Bring 'em on!

For posterity's sake, here are some 'L' items I considered, and discarded: lollipops, limbo, lampshades, Louisiana, love, little things, lemonade, Little Debbie Nutty Bars, laughing, linens, and life. Not that I don't love those things, of course. Life is great and all, just - zzzzz.

Also, Marc lobbied hard for lesbians. When I resisted, because, you know, it's not that I don't love lesbians, it's that I don't LOVE lesbians, he tried to appeal to the wordsmith in me by going for the double word score with lipstick lesbians. I was so tickled, I almost gave it to him. Almost. Besides, I told him, I already talked about lipstick.

Wanna play? Consider yourself tagged. Ask me in the comments, and I'll give you a letter.

Because 16 is an even number, and I am a freak.

Since January is coming to a close, I figure I'd better hurry up and post my list of things I'd like to do in 2009. (No, they are not resolutions. That's too... goalish.) Some are big and complicated, some are small and easy. It's all good.

1.  Run a 5K
2.  Look into joining a CSA. (I'd actually like to just see if I could join for late fall/early spring - I don't want my Saturday morning farmer's market trips made moot.)
3.  Earn a paycheck.
4.  Take the train to New York for the weekend.
5.  Fit into a pair of pre-pregnancy jeans.
6.  Find a local source for meat and milk. (I've got eggs covered.)
7.  Read three classic novels.
8.  Read two current releases.
9.  Organize and thoroughly (including off-site DVD storage) back up my enormous photo library.
10. Make a birthday cake without a box.
11. Take my family camping.
12. Take the kids strawberry picking.
13. Take a plane to the Caribbean for a long weekend.
14. Get my blog redesigned.
15. Do a real photoshoot for somebody who is not related to me.
16. Watch a sunrise. (Shut up - it's a big deal for me to be up that early.)

Oh! (Or, I am a lying liar that lies.*)

SNOW!!

 

Words cannot fully express how happy I am to get some snow this year. It's not much, but I'll take it.

 

 

I loaded the kids in the car and we went to the store. Needed chili supplies. And sleds.

I really, really miss snow. We get maybe one storm a year here, on average. I miss driving in the snow. I LOVE driving in the snow. Being from Colorado, I possess a fair amount of skill in it - not that I am better than other people who know how to drive in the snow - just that I don't have a problem saying that I'm better than most people in Maryland. There's something about it that makes me really miss driving a stick shift. It makes me want to get stuck, and then get myself out. Second gear, reverse. Second gear, reverse. Keep going, slowly, till you roll out. I really miss that. Driving an automatic has its perks, no doubt, but it's also drained some of the lifeblood out of driving. I really can't explain that one.

Side note: Marc is a wonderful human being, but without realizing it, can get a bit sexist on me in regards to driving in the snow. He'll pull that, "No, I should drive." And while I respect the courtesy in that, it also makes me enjoy reminding him of the time, years ago, when we were driving down from Winter Park. It had been snowing all night, all weekend probably, and was still snowing the following morning when we set out. It was going to be rough over the pass, and until we hit 70. I offered to drive - he gallantly refused.

Somewhere on the way down, on the tiny 2-lane road that is Highway 40, he pulled to the side and asked me to take over. Marc may jump in and deny this in the comments, as he often insists I remember things wrong. But not this one, sweetie. This is not a knock on you - you are an excellent driver, exceeding me and many others in myriad ways. Just not that day. Not in that weather.

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A snow day here is a great time to run errands, because nobody else is out. And the world is just so much prettier with snow all over it, don't you think?

 

Mason agrees.

 

Riley was about to agree, but was distracted by the UPS man. Rain or shine, indeed!

And my feet (and red scarf!) make it unanimous. Hooray for snow!

*My misinformation campaign worked, it seems. I knew as soon as I publicly announced I'm taking a break from the blog, I'd have things to say. Victory is mine!

The obligatory year-end inventory.

Completed late, of course. That's just how I roll. Courtesy of All and Sundry. (See my 2007 version here.)

1. What did you do in 2008 that you’d never done before?

Bodysurfing.

2. Did you keep your new year’s resolutions, and will you make more for next year?

Though last year’s resolutions were vague and never put into writing, I’m pleased that I wanted to get into some sort of fitness routine, and I’ve achieved that. And in lieu of making resolutions this year, I’m making a list of things I want to do in ’09. I realize that’s sort of the same, except for how it’s not. When I post it, you’ll see.

3. Did anyone close to you give birth?

While I’m certain that as soon as I hit “post”, somebody I am forgetting will come out the woodwork and glare menacingly, I’m going with “No”.

4. Did anyone close to you die?

My grandfather.

5. What countries did you visit?

Still none. That is so depressing.

6. What would you like to have in 2009 that you lacked in 2008?

A job.

7. What dates from 2008 will remain etched upon your memory, and why?

It’s all a blur.

8. What was your biggest achievement of the year?

Getting into a regular exercise routine.

9. What was your biggest failure?

I’m still pretty crappy at time management. I’m also pretty crappy about getting down on myself about things like being crappy at time management.

10. Did you suffer illness or injury?

No.

11. What was the best thing you bought?

My gym membership.

12. Whose behavior merited celebration?

My children, always.

13. Whose behavior made you appalled and depressed?

Political extremists – on the right and the left. The State of California. I refuse to let anything a celebrity does affect my mood. Fortunately, nobody I actually know.

14. Where did most of your money go?

The usual suspects. No changes there.

15. What did you get really, really, really excited about?

I can’t come up with anything for this. Hmph.

16. What song will always remind you of 2008?

Katy Perry, “Hot N Cold”

17. Compared to this time last year, are you:
a) happier or sadder? Happier, generally.
b) thinner or fatter? Thinner.
c) richer or poorer? I don't really know. Richer, probably.  (Yes! I love this question.)

18. What do you wish you’d done more of?

Take more pictures.

19. What do you wish you’d done less of?

Dishes.

20. How did you spend Christmas?

With my family, serendipitously in our pajamas all day.

21. Did you fall in love in 2008?

No.

22. What was your favorite TV program?

I think it’s still “Chuck”. I also really, really dug “So You Think You Can Dance” again this year. And am I the only person on the planet watching “ Eureka”?

23. Do you hate anyone now that you didn’t hate this time last year?

Still no! Hate sucks, yo.

24. What was the best book you read?

I’m having a very hard time rating my popular media this year. Yes, I got pulled into the “Twilight” saga, though I’d have a hard time calling it the best book. Let’s see… I finally got around to reading the old classic “Rebecca” by Daphne DuMaurier, and enjoyed it. “In Defense of Food” by Michael Pollan really got the neurons firing. But these days, getting around to finishing a book is a victory.

25. What was your greatest musical discovery?

Girl Talk.

26. What did you want and get?

Sirius satellite radio, and I seriously want to make out with it.

27. What did you want and not get?

A Blackberry Storm. And my Abbey Road poster for over my desk. Perhaps we’re not meant to be together, the poster and I.

28. What was your favorite film of this year?

Ugh. I always hate this question. “Iron Man”, I guess? I just didn’t get too excited about any movies. Sorry.

29. What did you do on your birthday, and how old were you?

Girls weekend at the beach. I’m 34.

30. What one thing would have made your year immeasurably more satisfying?

It was pretty satisfying, all around. I’m not interested in second guessing it.

31. How would you describe your personal fashion concept in 2008?

Get your shit together, girl. What would Stacy and Clinton say?

32. What kept you sane?

Exercising regularly. The Backyardigans. My stroller.

33. Which celebrity/public figure did you fancy the most?

Still can’t answer this one. Still cool with that.

34. What political issue stirred you the most?

A lot. This year, I shook off the apathy and really started thinking. First, I’d say that while I liked a good deal of the things Barack Obama campaigned on and felt stirred pretty much whenever he opened his mouth, I was very put off by the whole cult of personality thing surrounding him and his campaign. I knew he would be elected President as soon as I saw this, and it irritated me, because it’s pretty much a fucking Gap ad. (For the record, it’s not just a political thing. The same cult of personality and slick marketing thing is what turns me off of Apple.) Second, I’m firm in my belief that both unborn children and gay people deserve the same rights that I get, and both are being denied and told they don’t matter. And I’m having a hard time reconciling that the proponents for both groups are on opposite sides of the political spectrum.

35. Who did you miss?

As always, my parents and sister in Colorado.

36. Who was the best new person you met?

Mr. Facebook.

37. Tell us a valuable life lesson you learned in 2008.

Don’t try to make everything into a valuable life lesson. Speak up when you’re stirred about something – even if nobody agrees, you’ll feel better in the end.

38. Quote a song lyric that sums up your year.

 If you feel like singing a song
And you want other people to sing along
Just sing what you feel
Don’t let anyone say it’s wrong

And if you’re trying to paint a picture
But you’re not sure which colors belong
Just paint what you see
Don’t let anyone say it’s wrong

And if you’re strung out like a kite
Or stung awake in the night
It’s alright to be frightened

When there’s a light (what light)
There’s a light (one light)
There’s a light (white light)
Inside of you

"What Light", Wilco

Where you get to see how hopelessly mainstream I really am.

A week or so late, maybe, but I love being late to a party. Here, in a vague sort of order, are my favorite songs from 2008. Also, I could only come up with 9. Wow, I kinda suck at this. 

9. The Ting-Tings, "Shut Up and Let Me Go". I like this one despite the unfortunate use in an iPod ad.

8. Flo Rida, "Low". I know. Boots with the fur? Kills me. Love it.

7. Finger Eleven, "Paralyzer"

6. O.A.R., "Shattered". This was an end of the year addition for me. Now, it's a shower favorite.

5. Estelle/Kanye West, "American Boy". I think Kanye West is a total douche. But he happens to be a talented douche.

6. T-Pain, "Church". "Some bitches think they're hard, so why they think I'm not?" This one is always a mood lifter.

5. Matt Nathanson, "Come On Get Higher". Just yummy.

4. Jason Mraz, "I'm Yours". Despite that needing a dictionary thing, this song is a keeper.

3. Katy Perry, "Hot and Cold". I tried to stay away from this one, to stay away from Katy Perry in general. But it can't be stopped. This one gets the whole house rocking, and the whole family jumping. You can keep your "I Kissed A Girl" - I don't care for it.

2. This may be cheating, but the whole album "Feed The Animals", by Girl Talk. I love a good mash-up.

1. Weezer, "Pork and Beans". "Working out at the gym to fit my underwear." Genius.

Boys will not like this post. Probably nobody will like this post.

I think I once had some fun things to say today, maybe, except that they've all been lost to my mind-numbing depression following an ill-conceived bra shopping expedition. Had I known all the symbolic suckitude that would come from this task, I would have skipped it and put some duct tape on my last two hanging-on-by-a-thread bras. Seriously.

I think this is where I'm supposed to be all feminist rah-rah bullshit and badge of honor, I am woman, mamas are beautiful PONIES RAINBOWS UNICORNS GIRL POWER. Instead I would prefer to sulk like a teenager. Maybe I'll go light some candles. I'm pretty sure I've got some Sarah McLachlan or Tori Amos laying around somewhere.

System malfunction.

My Command Central is out of order today - technical difficulties, waiting on tech support, may try alcohol soon. Due to these, uh... delays... I am unable to form any cohesive block of words for you to read and be fulfilled for the rest of your days. Best I can manage is to toss you some memos from the only Departments that have bothered checking in around here lately:

From the Dept. of the Sick and the Sad:

• I'm not sure I believe in Hell, literally, so understand that I don't have any clue what I'm talking about when I tell you I'm totally going there because I thought it was the best thing in the whole world when, the other night, Riley was talking about Swiper and referred to him as "that stinky box". I know. Believe me, I know.

• Also, technically under the jurisdiction of this department is the announcement that Mason has been sickity sick all week - like, actually sick, not just mental like me. None of us are sleeping well. Woe has been greatly upon us, but things are looking up.

NEXT!

From the Dept. of Gainful Employment:

• I have a department for this? Hmm. Well, ok. Maybe I'll be forming one soon. Let's just say - Under Construction.

NEXT!

From the Dept. of There Is Something Seriously Wrong With Me:

• Yesterday as I was stringing up some lights I felt a tickle in my ear and since have been certain that a little bug crawled in there. I am now having relentless images of baby spiders streaming out of my ear in nine months (wait, how long is the spider gestation period? Looks like I need a Dept. of Useless R & D) and OMG, just typing that has made me hyperventilate. I have poured peroxide in my ear but so far have recovered no incriminating evidence. I don't want to talk about it anymore. If you are half as grossed out as I am, I am SO, SO sorry.

• I am also bothered, as I get sometimes, by what I see as blatant incorrect word usage. My victim today is Jason Mraz, who sings (and I presume wrote) (again, I need research) that lovely ditty "I'm Yours". Nice song. I sing along freely - even to the Hawaiian guys. And there's ukulele, and who doesn't love some ukulele, am I right? But - BUT! I would like to submit this stanza for your perusal:

"Listen to the music of the moment people, dance and sing
We're just one big family
And it's our God-forsaken right to be loved loved loved loved loved."

Do you know what godforsaken means? Because I know what godforsaken means. And in the famous words of the Dread Pirate Roberts, I do not think it means what Jason Mraz thinks it means. Call me, Jason. We'll work this out over coffee or something.

NEXT!

From the Dept. of So, How's Your Holiday Spirit?:

• Ok, ok. Things have been looking grim around here. Sick baby, lost a week to Thanksgiving (whyyyyyyy was it a week late this year and do you think I'll ever stop whining about it?) and have been scrambling about basically trying to hold my shit together. Well. No more. Mason is ok, and I really, really, REALLY love the holiday season. So, the attitude adjustment starts right.... now. Wait - I have to put on some appropriate music. Ok, now. I have decided that although there is a lot to do, it is all stuff that I genuinely enjoy doing, so I'm going to lose the Grinchiness and just love it. For example - tonight, after all the craziness of the week, I'd love to just curl up tonight and watch a good Christmas movie. But we have our first holiday party of the season, and I will get to see people I love seeing, and so I'm going to put on my red heels and have a good time, dammit.

I mean, come on. Don't those shoes make YOU want to have fun?

This is irrelevant if your name isn't Marc.

My Christmas list:

Love, your lovely wife who makes you dinner and takes care of your drycleaning and occasionally cleans your house and sometimes tries to let you sleep in and ALWAYS scratches your back and, you know, gave you some beautiful kids.

(I can hear you scoffing. At least I'm not asking for this:)