You're Doing It Wrong

There’s no better way to lose interest in writing a post than to mention the day before that you’re going to do it later. It happens every time. I’m not writing about delayed gratification today. I think there’s a joke in there somewhere but I’m still too brain dead to figure it out.

I got home from work yesterday at 5:30pm and found my absentee ballot for the tribal election. It’s post dated Tuesday 10-30. It’s due in the tribal office by 5pm on Monday. At least they have the candidate statements online. We mailed it at the post office last night anyway and I may or may not write the election committee and suggest this could be improved.

Historically, I always have one big energy weekend around this time. As if biologically I know this decent weather is it until July so better sweep out the garage or whatever. Today was going to be my lazy day and the lazy part was I didn’t get out of bed until I finished my book (#35)

Since then I’ve been doing housework and for some reason, I decided to clean out my spices. I need to put in a Penzey’s order because I desperately need cocoa for the hot cocoa ceremony. And if I’m going to put an order in, might as well stock up on taco seasoning and finally get that Spanish paprika because I am going to become the queen of all things paella this winter.

This week fried my brain. I can’t do anything that involves thinking. I think I’ll go rake some leaves in the sunshine until Bob gets home.

That’s a replica of the Voodoo Donut that hurt me on Wednesday. There was a leftover one and a couple people were coaxing me to try it. “I ate one yesterday,” I said, “And it was good, but for the rest of the day, I felt wrong.”

Yesterday we left the house at about 6:40a and pulled back in at 11pm. And I am about to leave for work today because I am the queen of delayed gratification which I have a story about that I will try to get to tomorrow.

I normally do a 4-day work week with Friday off. I would rather work extra during the week than come in on a Friday. But, I have a couple of major projects that need to be finished and I talked myself into it by thinking that next week I can take Thursday off and have a super long weekend.

Last night we went to Henry Rollins and he was fabulous. He’s funny and smart and crazy. I love Henry. His show is just him talking. No music. No props. All Henry. The show was scheduled to start at 8pm and I figured, how long can a guy talk? I thought I’d be in bed by 10:30p. I was wrong.

I was totally into the show but my butt started to hurt in the seat and my attention wandered a bit and it seemed like we were not even close to wrapping up. Finally I checked the time and it was 10:30! Bob was restless, too and I said, “Do you want to leave?” and he said he was still into it. So I put my purse on my lap and gathered my coat around me and he said, “Oh. Do you want to leave?”

And we were out of there. Bye, Henry. As we drove by it looked like people were in the lobby so I guess we just missed the very end.

Now we’re off for another day and we have Joe and Rosa’s annual Day of the Dead party tonight.

Yesterday various people brought treats to the office.

There were store bought cookies including some orange ones shaped like pumpkins that for some reason I had to try because what would an orange pumpkin-shaped cookie taste like? It’s been decades since I ate crayon, but that’s the flavor that came to mind. There were also cupcakes and Voodoo Doughnuts.

Since we got to this office (starts around Feb 23) I’ve made a point of not getting in the habit of eating the candy and other crap that’s always around so normally I wouldn’t have looked twice except there was a neon orange donut with Cap’n Crunch sprinkled on top. Who could resist that?

I only ate half, and it was fabulous, but it was my annual allowance of refined sugar in about 15 minutes and I felt like my heart was going to explode and I had to keep pushing my eyeballs back in my head. Also I started talking really fast and then I got a bit of a headache and I never really felt normal for the rest of the day. If I could do it over, I’d only eat one bite.

I still feel a tad off this morning and timing couldn’t be better because I have a marathon day. We’re leaving early so I can get to work earlier because I am desperate to get a couple time-sensitive projects finished so I don’t have to go in tomorrow. No randomizer for me today.

After work Bob is going to meet me downtown so we can check out a friend’s art show and then we have tickets to see Henry Rollins. Yay.

Lucky I have my nerd adrenaline to keep me going. Two huge stories: X-Files movie is on AND Joss Weadon is coming back to TV. (Although, I’m not a big Eliza Dushku fan.)

The One About Cheese
This morning as I stood in the dark, waiting for the bus, I had almost convinced myself that I didn’t hate it. Then there was a snafu getting on and a stoner kid sat on me. I’m not interested in elaborating on either story. But the net result was, I still hate it. Later the stoner kid, who was young and kinda cute in a Joseph Gordon-Levitt way, fell asleep on my shoulder. I pondered the inappropriateness of it but let it go. I mean, he’d already sat on me.

He woke up and was embarrassed and apologized. I told him he needed to go to bed earlier.

Last night we had about 10 new people at yoga. It’s unusual for that class to be packed to the rafters, except for the first two weeks in January, and it’s unusual for so many new people all on one night. We were chatting in the lobby and someone commented: “Wow, big class tonight,” and my teacher said, “Yeah, what the hell is going on in there?” I suggested that she make the class really hard and about halfway through when sweat was rolling down my sides and I was weeping while I tried to balance on what was left of my spaghetti legs, she came over to me and said, “How am I doing?”

Also my appetite is cracking me up because I feel like I’m hungry all the time and it’s always for something really specific: a tub of macaroni and cheese, a grilled cheese sandwich, a half-block of melted Tillamook with chips, crackers, pretzels or any other remotely similar product: English muffin bagel, heels of bread saved in the freezer for making croutons or bread crumbs. The magic ingredient is cheese.

A couple of weeks ago we were at a get together and someone was talking about how great Trader Joes Mac and Cheese is. She said they don’t have it anymore. I was at TJs and I spotted Mac and Cheese and grabbed a box. A man left his cart and hurried over to where I was standing and said, “I noticed you’ve got the Mac and Cheese. That’s the best Mac and Cheese I’ve ever had. We love it and they don’t always have it.” I went back for a second carton.

This weekend I decided to pop one into the microwave and you know how Homer Simpson eats like he’s shoveling in giant gobs of food as fast as he can? It was that good. Cheesy, buttery goodness. I made myself stop halfway through, whimpering. And saved the rest for Bob who agreed it was delicious. Now every time I’m hungry all I can think about is that Mac and Cheese.

We Haven’t Located Us Yet
On Saturday Bob took me to see The Darjeeling Limited. Wes Anderson is one of my favorite directors and I always look forward to his movies and make a big deal out of seeing them. Rushmore is my favorite.

Being a big fan, I loved it, but it’s not one of his stronger movies. I saw a review somewhere that said it was like a parody of a Wes Anderson movie and that’s not a bad description. There were a lot of really cool moments but I’m not sure the whole thing hung together.

I loved the characters. It was nice to see Adrien Brody in this role. I loved the setting and the train. Large chunks of the music were completely annoying. Loved the Bill Murray cameo. If you’ve liked other Wes Anderson movies, I’d say go for it.

Yay, the pumpkin crop is finally in. There’s one more out there that I’m hoping will make it. It’s still too yellow to bring in and I’m guessing the temptation will be too much for the bad kids on Halloween. But maybe they won’t notice it since it’s still attached to the ground and not sitting on my porch with a flashlight in it.

We’re giving some away and some I will enjoy looking at on my counter and at the end of the month I will butcher them for food. It’s tough being a pumpkin in this house.

I had another super busy weekend. Today was going to be my lazy day and the laziest part was the long walk Bob and I did this morning. I took a bunch of photos which I’m sure I won’t get around to putting up until I’m procrastinating on something else.

I think I found a coat. Not too long ago I thought it was a good thing that I could view clothes on a store’s webpage, that way when I got to the store, I’d have an idea of what they offer and what I want. Turns out this is a complete waste of time because then I have an idea in my mind what I want and the store never has that item. Or if it does, not in my size, or only in orange.

What are the chances of having a good retail experience downtown? I think about 25%. It’s like the store are smaller representations of the good stores they have out in the suburbs. Do I really want to get in my car and drive for an hour for a bigger selection? If you know me, you know the answer is no.

A number of years ago this was all a lot easier because at some point around 30-ish, I was resigned to being frumpy. I felt that I was destined to be frumpy, I’d embrace frumpy and that frumpy was a perfectly fine place to be. I bought clothes that were “good enough.” I liked cheap. If it fit, fine.

At some point in the last 10 years I had an experience which I think we can trace back to this trip to Las Vegas where the girls made me buy a Miracle Bra instead of the $8 Hanes sports bra I was used to and I was transformed. I’m really simplifying here but I haven’t put on a Birkenstock, since.

Now I do not want to look frumpy and I’m really picky about my clothes which is a huge pain in the butt for a person who likes to shop in a hurry.

So back to the coat. I have paper thin skin and I’m always cold and I have a long cold wait in the dark for the bus. I need a good coat. I went to the department store which was a complete waste of time and made me mad. So when I got back to the office I jumped around online and I found a coat that I thought would work. It’s cute, it’s in my budget, it’s waterproof with hermetically sealed titanium clasps and turbo-wicking under-carriage. I pretty much decided on it and then I noticed it’s good for -40°. I don’t know. Our most brutal cold weather usually hovers around freezing. We get some gruesome wind. It’s a damp cold. But -40° seems overkill. I can wear my bathing suit to work under my coat.

I think I’ve talked myself into it since -40° according to whom? I’m always cold. This may be the coat that I wear to bed at night. Now I have to find some -40° boots.

How To Keep A Lizard Warm in Winter
Yesterday morning I looked at the weather forecast as I was leaving the house and there was a possibility of rain in the evening. I actually considered leaving my raincoat at home. DOH!

I decided to bring it because I’ve learned that in this part of the world, “possibility of rain in the evening” means “possibility of rain in the next 5 minutes.” Sure enough, by 3pm there was a driving mist blowing through town. You’d be surprised by the damage a fast-moving, high-volume mist can cause.

The bus was late and it took awhile for Bob to pick me up when I got to our side of the river so I ended up standing outside in damp clothes/shoes for almost an hour.

At lunch today I’m going to buy myself an expedition weight floor length monsoon-proof parka and turbo-dry self-heating boots. I hate waiting to begin with. Waiting and being cold/damp is my kryptonite.

Kiss Me On The Bus
I’m feeling like everything’s on the brink of veering out of control. I have to keep taping notes to the wall and making lists to preserve the illusion that I’ve got it all reeled in. I think I’m mixing my metaphors, but whatever.

I know hearing about people’s dreams is super boring but last night I dreamed (dreamt?) that I bought a grocery store in another state. I met the sellers and wrote them a check. Then I realized I was an idiot because I didn’t even check the financial statements or work out a transition plan and now we owned a business and we had to move and what about Bob’s job? I was so happy when I woke up.

Yesterday I tried an alternate connector bus, just so I can experience the range of options. (Bus backstory here.) I’ve been impressed by how nice everybody is: drivers and passengers. Everybody says good morning and thank you and a couple times there were traffic jams and the bus would take some fancy detour and the riders would all tell the driver what a great job s/he did. I don’t have extensive experience with public transportation but I’m guessing it’s not always like this.

Yesterday, the alternate bus driver was scary. She had bleach-blonde hair and looked as if she’s smoked 400 cigarettes a day for the last 40 years. I knew the route but didn’t know where the stop was so I asked and she sorta jerked her chin down and growled, “Safeway.” The alternate bus runs more often but the stop is about a 20 minute walk from the house. I don’t mind walking but when the weather is horrendous, 20 minutes might as well be 20 hours. We’ll take it one day at a time.