You're Doing It Wrong

Dillon Creek, California.

This is my cheater post that I’m really doing on Friday but Saturday is my no computer day.

This is about two things that earlier I thought I would probably not write about because I wasn’t sure how they would sound.

#1 — is my bad customer service experience. I had planned to never mention it again, but I’m going to tell you the outcome. The company is called Moonstruck Chocolate and if you want to buy your fancy chocolates from a company who cares a great deal about customer service, this should be your first stop.

This is a Portland based company. I’ve never tried them before and I stopped in to pick up something for my chocoholic husband for his birthday. I was unhappy with the customer service which I thought was subpar especially for something like chocolate. Have you ever been to See’s? If not, I’m very sorry. Those ladies practically vault over the counter to hand you a free sample of super butter chocolate brickle surprise and ask you if you’re familiar with the cherry-chocolate white truffle rum-raisin delight or the new sparkling butter-fudge ripple nut spectacular.

But I wanted to try something new for Bob and I purchased a pre-made box and jetted off an email complaining about the customer service which I characterized as unenthusiastic and uninterested or something like that.

Not only did I receive an apologetic email. I got a phone call asking all the details of my experience which made me a teeny bit embarrassed since I was young once and I’m sure I had my worthless moments when I was manning the register for the Jack-in-the-Box on Kanan Road in Agoura. The point is: they made a major point of wanting to make it right so I will fer-sure be going back although I hope those kids don’t look me up and throw rocks or drinking chocolate at me if they see me in the future.

#2 — is even harder to explain without sounding a teeny bit like an asshole. Like those actresses who tell about how hard their life was because they were so beautiful or rich people who go on about their difficult life with money floating into their hands.

From about age 15 to 35 my feelings about my weight were something that colored every aspect of my existence. It was the extra 15-40 pounds that killed my life. How that changed would be a ten page post that I’m not going to get into right now. The short version is that lots of inner work and yoga and a great spouse and just time healed all that and several years ago I finally settled into a weight that felt like it was right for me. No more agony of worrying about losing weight.

Then last year at this time my digestive system melted down and it became much more difficult to overeat or even enjoy yummy stuff that’s fried or fatty or I feel awful. For example, Bob’s birthday celebration was at a Mexican Restaurant and they brought out the giant plates of chips with huge globs of heavenly melted cheese and I ate like 4 bites and had a hard time falling asleep later with all the churning in my innards.

This week I ran into my favorite clothing stop Ann Taylor Loft where about 80% of my wardrobe comes from because those clothes fit me and because my Mom gives me a gift certificate there for xmas every year. I had an adorable young girl named Jasmine helping pick out stuff.

I explained to Jasmine that I needed everything because by this cruel twist of fate, the Universe was making me lose weight easily now that I was old and married and didn’t care quite so much and none of my clothes fit me. She gave me this horrified look of betrayal and said, “My Mom said it was harder when you got older.” And I said, “Yeah, that’s what I thought, too.”

We picked out a boatload of pants and tried them all on and they were too big. She came in to see how I was doing and I said I had to try a size smaller and she said: “You have to tell me about this yoga class you’re taking.”

I don’t think it’s all me. I think the clothing industry is insane and just keeps making stuff up to massage the American woman ego. I read somewhere that a movement to follow the European standard was quashed because an American woman would never buy a size 32. I would ! I would love to not spend the first 30 minutes of every shopping trip just figuring out what my size is.

I’m not going to make any excuses about being comfortable about my weight since it was a long, hard journey to get here and with all my other head trips, it’s not like I’m frolicking in an eternal unicorn paradise. But whenever I feel like some goal is completely impossible, I think about how many years I thought I would never feel normal about eating and body image and it feeds my hope.

What a long and hectic week. One night I got home at 5:30, two nights I got home after 8 and last night I got home at 9:30.

Domestic chaos abounds.

However, the sun is out and the garden calls so I’m off to the garden center.

I leave you with this thought about Battlestar Galactica.

I can’t remember exactly but I think there are only 40,000 humans left. Yet every time President Roslin does a press conference, there are like 40 reporters. Does that population really warrant a press corps of that size? There must be plenty of other jobs that need doing. Manufacturing. Everybody needs clothes and toothbrushes and soap. Where is that stuff coming from?

Yes, I realize this line of thinking is very Clerks but my mind actually works this way. Like the cylon Six and her fancy underwear after her romps with Gaius? Where did that come from? I realize the cylon manufacturing would be separate from the human, my point is: who has the time and energy to make silk lingerie when you’re fighting in space?

I had a such a great sleeping week last week I thought I was home free but this week my body’s alarm clock is back on 4am except for yesterday when it was 3am. Maybe this is seasonal. Maybe I’m supposed to be coming out of hibernation and getting up early and plowing my fields and bringing calves and lambs into the world. I’ll have to go to Fred Meyer this weekend and get some.

Today’s technology gripe: don’t you hate it when you do something like send an email, post a comment, or publish your blog and your computer says: Wah! That didn’t work.

Then you do it again and now you’ve done it twice? That happens to me all the time.

There was a day when I loved to fire off a bad customer service complaint letters but these days I often find that I’d prefer to use my time and energy for other things. However, on Monday I had a bad experience that rubbed me the wrong way enough that I wrote a toasty note about it. It wasn’t a huge deal but it was an expensive item and I had trouble getting help and when I did the person was completely worthless to the extent I thought I should apologize for bothering her.

I sent an email and my computer freaked out and said I wasn’t allowed to do that which seemed odd. I waited 24 hours and heard nothing so I resent the next day. I still have heard nothing and now I’m sure both messages went through and they think I’m a shrill harpie with nothing better to do than complain about their $7.80 an hour staff.

Well maybe I am.

Yesterday morning I took the bus because I was meeting Bob downtown later and he could take me home.

There was a passenger who broke the all time record for shortest time period before I want to strangle a complete stranger. She could not stop talking to the lady next to her and there was nothing too boring to skip over.

She had a catalog and went through it page by page: “I have a sheets like this. Mine are 400 count and a lighter blue. I paid $89.99 which was a great deal. Usually they’re $109.99 but I had a gift card and a coupon and I used them together. At first they weren’t going to let me but I made a fuss and they did it. The edges are started to wear. And it has a coffee stain. It made me so mad. Gladys and Wilbur Hinkewiggle and their daughter Penelope stayed with me. They didn’t watch for things. They stayed for 10 days. We went to Mt. St. Helens. It was raining. We had pancakes for breakfast. I had blueberry syrup … .”

Are you ready to brain yourself yet?

She didn’t wear a wedding ring and I wondered if she ever stayed up late on a Saturday night talking to her cats and wondering why she was still alone.

I left the office at lunch time and met Bob at South Park for a fantastic fancy lunch. I had the steelhead special which was served with potatoes and these roasted onions that came with long green stems and were delicious but hard to eat. At one point I had a big blob of onion dangling down my throat half gagging me while the rest of was stuck in my mouth and had to resort to drastic measures which were pretty gross to avoid choking or gakking up part of my lunch. If you happened to see that, sorry. I was truly embarrassed.

After lunch we stopped by the museum to see the Elliot Erwitt exhibit which was excellent and then back over the river to El Presidente where Bob had an informal birthday party. A whole bunch of people stopped by to wish him well and eat nachos and drink margaritas. Excellent celebration day.

Happy 50th Birthday Bob!
You are my favorite person on the planet. I wish you the best birthday ever.

Photo by Jim Hughes

Look at these beautiful loaves. They aren’t crusty sourdough, they’re squishy buttermilk wheat but they look pretty and taste wonderful. So wonderful that I ate about half a loaf with butter last night and then felt too full and uncomfortable when I went to bed. The chocolate cake also turned out good although now we have a giant cake leftover that we’ve got to get people to eat. One of us will have to take it to work.

One hour shouldn’t be a big deal but I always feel ripped off on the day we start Daylight Savings time. I’m already behind before I even get out of bed.

This morning I decided to linger in bed to read since I haven’t read a book in a couple of weeks. Then Bob brought me some chai and the free donut that comes with it so I ate that. So now I’m more than an hour behind and wired on sugar. Yay me.

This month is eleven years since I started taking yoga classes. Before that I noodled a bit using pictures in a book but never had anything resembling a real practice. It took me a couple years of classes before I developed a solid home practice but when we moved into this house 9 years ago and I had my own space, that’s when I became more dedicated.

Yesterday I did a new yoga thing that I’ve never done before. From downward dog you jump your feet up and float yourself into crow pose.

This my teacher Bill demonstrating crow. There was no boulder involved in my pose. Several years ago when Bill introduced the float into crow in class and I thought it was impossible. How could you possibly land on your arms like that without falling forward on your face?

Bill’s teaching philosophy goes something like: it doesn’t matter if you do the pose, just have fun trying. He says to try it three times a day and maybe a week, maybe a year, maybe 10 years you’ll be able to do it. This is well suited to my learning style because if I thought I had to do it all right away, I’d never have stuck with it.

Ever since my first class there have always been yoga poses, even beginner poses, that seemed impossible. I spent a great deal of time during my first three years of practice wishing I started yoga earlier so I could do these poses already.

Even now after all these years, there are always new things to learn.

With the floaty crow pose I’d practiced not three times a day, but regularly and for a long time it remained something to try but not to do. Then one day I landed my legs on my arms but my feet still touched the floor. Suddenly, this pose was a possibility in my mind. I couldn’t do it yet but I could see how it was possible.

Then it was more fun to practice and I kept at it until last week I floated into it except for one toe that grazed the floor. So close. Yesterday I knew was going to be the day and on my second try I jumped, I floated and I landed on my arms. And then I kept doing it over and over with about 50% success until I rubbed half the skin off the back of my arms.

The point of me telling this whole story is I think there is a metaphor about life in there somewhere.

(Top photo is from the farmer’s market last year. The bottom image used without permission from Bill.)

I scribbled all kinds of notes for possible posts and I’m going to blob it all into one because tomorrow is computer-free day.

When I got married I had been a vegetarian for quite some time. It’s hard to remember how long now but I think at least 10 years and I was strict. No clam dip. No: “I’m a vegetarian except I eat chicken and fish.” I think I even toyed with veganism on and off.

I gave it up because I was having a hard time staying warm during the winter and a naturopathic Chinese medicine doctor (for real!) suggested I think about adding a little bit of meat back into my diet. Once I got used to the idea, I never looked back and I exaggerate little when I say my spouse was ecstatic.

We recently went to a party with a friend of Bob’s who he hadn’t seen since we got married. You should have seen the look of relief on her face when she found out I’d crossed back over to the dark side. She said she’d make barbecue. I whipped out my datebook: when? when? when?

While I enjoy eating meat I don’t eat a lot of it and very rarely beef. Last night Bob was kinda cranky and he thought a Steakburger for dinner would make his night so I said: let’s go for it.

Steakburger is a local favorite with excellent milkshakes AND a miniature golf course. If I’d met Bob 30 years earlier, we’d probably gone on a date at the mini-golf. Of course, I would have been 13 and he would have been 20 so it would have been creepy but why get caught up in the details of our pretend scenario?

My 3 regular readers might remember that my digestive system freaks out if I eat too much fat (or overeat or pretty much overindulge in *anything* super delicious except for booze, thank heaven for small favors) so I was a little nervous about eating a hamburger but Bob was so happy and I didn’t want to cook. Guess what: it was fantastically magically delicious. The whole bun, sauce, grilled meat and shredded lettuce: texture and yum. I could have inhaled the whole thing in 3 bites. Bob also got fries, which my digestive system totally hates, but they were the steak cut and insanely good. I woke up at midnight and was aware of my innards but nothing to cry about. I think we will be returning to Steakburger.

This morning I ran a bunch of errands and when I got home around noon I was starving and all I could think about was: a Steakburger would sure be good. Instead I decided to finish off that tiny bit of lasagna from the other night only it was gone. So then I got tamales out of the freezer and treated myself to those.

After an hour or so of crippling laziness I pulled myself together and decided to crank some Cult, Electric which is an awesome record, and I rocked out around my kitchen and realized how much cooler I am than stupid lawyers [long story omitted and besides, how cool can a lawyer be?] and made some granola.

My hero Mark Bittman did a homemade granola recipe recently and I cut it out but didn’t try it right away thinking: come on, how great can it be for the trouble? Then one of the blogs I read wrote about this exact thing. And she tried the granola recipe and proceeded to eat nothing else for days.

“Well, if it’s that good,” I thought. I finally got enough ingredients together and made it this afternoon and oof, it smells like heaven in a pan. I’ve tasted a few nuggets but I’m going to test it tonight for dessert with some yogurt. This may be a life-defining recipe.

I’ve seen daffodils around town and on the Portland Flickr Stream but this is the closest I have in my yard. The photo is crap because my hands were all yucky because I just emptied my compost bowl into the compost bin and I touched the slimy stuff in the bottom of the bowl to get it all in there. I couldn’t hold the camera properly.

Yesterday I was at the downtown mall on my lunch hour. I find that I rarely take a real lunch. I always think I’ll just leave early and then I don’t leave early so I’m trying to get out of the office for a bit in the afternoon. I have an Ann Taylor gift certificate and I do this every freaking year: I wait until all the Spring stuff is out and I hate pastels and I hate capri pants. I don’t mind if you like them and you wear them. For me, I hate them. Not negotiable. I found maybe one thing I sort of liked and I wasn’t in the mood so I didn’t even make it to the changing room.

While at the mall I heard this song and wanted to cover my ears. I guess it’s an exaggeration to say The Waterboys is one of my favorite bands but I love their music and it always sounds good to me. This was a cover of “The Whole of the Moon” which is one of my favorite songs and it was being sung by what I refer to as a bleating pop singer. Who? Why? My iTunes store search (which I use for research but do not support because of DRM) says it’s Mandy Moore. Why Mandy, why? You were so wonderful in that movie where you had cancer and made me weep but why sing this song?

My other topic has to do with The History Channel. I’m not one of those people who says they only watch TV if it’s the Discovery Channel or the History Channel or something educational. I like shows with vampires, superheroes, pirates, dragons and especially all of those at the same time. But I read about this History Channel thing on The Dark Ages so I taped it and it was awesome. It’s amazing how the decisions of one person had such incredible impact like old Clovis converting to Catholicism and poor Justinian “I just pulled the empire together and married an exotic dancer and now we all have the black plague”. Great show.

For tonight, I have the DVD of The Science of Sleep directed by my hero Michel Gondry and starring the adorable Gael Garcia Bernal. I fell in love with it when I saw the trailer.

Not much to report here. I’ve been working on my story for my writers group. Amazing, me writing again. It wasn’t great but had a beginning, middle and end and I put forth a decent effort and I sent it off to them this morning so they will hopefully have time to read it by Saturday.

I always bake a treat for our meetings and I’ve been eyeing these layer cake recipes in Cooks Illustrated. I’ve never made a layer cake before. But after my latest series of baking disasters, I don’t think I’m up for the challenge quite yet. I’m going to make a sheet cake which seems like a slam dunk.

I won $4 in the Powerball. $4! Writing a story. Winning Money. My luck is changing. I can feel it.

This morning on the radio they were asking: if you were a billionaire and could have anyone you want play at your birthday party, who would you hire?

At first I couldn’t think of anyone that I cared that deeply about. I’d rather hire a fun band that Bob would like since he has so many. Then I decided The Replacements and I think you’d need a billion dollars to get the last line up of the ‘Mats in one place. The most obvious choice would be U2. I’d like them, too.