Rhymed Couplets

Have you all seen this:



In honor of positive thinking, JP's favorite rhyme scheme, and xkcd today:


I wrote my own lyrics. They're really cheesy, but I had fun doing it.

I love my kittens, I love Judd Apatow,
I love raw oysters, I love the falling snow,
I love my own world, and how my music sounds.

I love PHI, I love our happy hours,
I love my Harrys, I love when I get flowers,
I love my own world, and all its loveliness.

I love my Mazda, I love when Pittsburgh wins,
I love espresso, I love when JP grins,
I love my own world, and how my cookies taste.

She moves her body like a cyclone

In the lab that I work at, we have sister offices in both Hong Kong and Karlsruhe, Germany. This means we have a constant influx of German students who come here to study for a couple months. Lately, I have been making friends with them, and the latest group is just fantastic.
When they came to happy hour on Tuesday, they told me they were going to Matrix, a club here, on Thursday. Did I want to come? Free cover, dollar drinks. And dancing! No one ever wants to go dancing with me. And here are 4 boys that are perfectly willing to accompany me there. I was hoping with boys there that meant no random grinding from some guy or getting pinched as I walked through the crowd. Plus, boys who dance? This is a whole new breed for me.

So I decided that partying like a rockstar on a Thursday made me feel very not old and convinced Zac to come along. We went to the lab to pick everyone up. "Everyone" was 6 of us, which meant squeezing 4 in the backseat. Adventure time!

We arrive at Matrix and the boys have to drink copious amounts of drinks before they will come dance. Their drink of choice? Vodka and Coke. Blech. I sucked down 2 of them to speed things along, but that was the only alcohol I consumed the entire night.
Some highlights of the evening included:

• Alexander, Zac, and I being stuck in the hip-hop* room when some sort of group dance that we did not know came on. We stared around in confusion, and I refused to try and fake it. People look pretty silly dancing in unison, especially as adults and looking like they are doing the electric slide with just a few modifications. It reminds me of this.
  
• The Germans telling me that I "couldn't" wear jeans, so me in heels and a short skirt while they were all wearing jeans.
• Marc confessing that he would be much happier to dance to metal than any of the music in the hip-hop* room.
• Daniel switching places with me while dancing when the jerk behind me did not take the multiple hip checks and elbows I threw at him as a clue to back off.
  
• The bouncer, who upon seeing my outfit said, "I like your outfit, but man, now I want a candy cane." (I was wearing a pink and white striped shirt, black skirt, knee socks with pink and black stripes, and black boots)
• The first girl I saw with a skirt shorter than mine. Then the second, the third...after awhile, I started looking for ones longer than mine. It was much more difficult. As Marc put it, "I think you would have to just wear a belt to have the shortest skirt here."
  
• Alexander insisting that I dance to "Baby Got Back", even though I was dead tired and wanted to sit, and grinning when I agreed.
• Felix insisting on just "one more song" before we left (which turned into 5 or so). Otherwise, I would've missed "Yeah", so I'm not mad.
• The boys insisting that we take Carson St. home because "there are so many memories" (I think they've only been in Pittsburgh a couple months...lol)
• The guy who needed to use my cell at the gas station to call his girlfriend. She didn't pick up, but he asked me to relay this message to her if she called back: "your boyfriend is waiting to pick you up at the Exxon, and he's pissed". She wasn't too pleased when I told her that.
  

So, all in all, I have to say that Matrix was a lot more fun than I thought it would be. Once these guys are gone, I'm going to have to continue making friends with the Germans to have dancing partners.

*Please note that hip-hop is used very loosely here to mean crappy top 40 danceable music that makes every girl dancing appear slutty because of the ass shaking involved. When I normally say hip-hop, I mean hip-hop, indie or otherwise, including, but not limited to: El-P, Aesop Rock, RJD2, Wu Tang, Dr. Octagon, Gorillaz, etc.

Isabella Rose

Last night, we had plans with four of our friends to hang out and grill at my parents' house since they are on vacation. Unfortunately, Kelley and John ruined the plan by deciding to have a baby instead. I got a text at 11:25 am on Friday saying they were in the hospital. At 11:08 pm, Isabella Rose was born.
I was on the edge of my seat all day long. See, Kelley and John didn't find out if they were having a boy or a girl until the moment of truth. Everyone thought it would be a boy. As Tim said "John is the type of guy that just spews Y chromosomes.", but I held out hope.
Obviously, grilling last night was an abbreviated group, but I went to the hospital to visit and meet Isabella that afternoon. And she's perfect. 10 fingers, 10 toes. She even has Kelley's nose.


Here's their first family portrait:


I held her for about 15 minutes, and she just slept in my arms. I was hooked. The pediatrician came in to examine her and she cried the whole time (being flipped around and not snuggled will do that to you, I guess). As she cried, Kelley clutched at the sheets, John hovered over the doctor's shoulder, and I had to force myself not to start yelling and grab Isabella back from her. It was worse than when I take the cats to the vet. I can only imagine how Kell and John felt. She calmed down immediately once John (who is about 25 times her size) sat with her. He seemed in awe, just as I was.


I think this little girl might change my mind about kids after all. I already can't wait to see her smile, walk, and talk to me (and hopefully by then, I'll have remembered to stop swearing around her). I can't wait to buy her birthday presents and just-because presents. I hope she always calls me Freya, and not Mrs. Fridy.
A happy belated birthday to Isabella and good luck to Kelley and John as they take her home today.

But not me, JP. I've got you to save me!

In high school, once I decided that I didn't want to be like everyone else, it was easy to become different. Don't wear trendy clothes, don't hang out with people you don't like just because they're popular. Easy enough. As an adult, though, it tends to be harder. I do still live in the city (well, sort of). I still don't wear trendy clothes, and I hang out with people that I adore. I don't know if we're popular or not (there's no one left to judge, really), and I don't care.
So, while becoming adults and lawyers and teachers and whatnot, there's not much to distinguish us from the rest of the world. Having a mohawk or being goth is a little cliched at this point. Plus, I do still have to work.
So I decided to change that in a slightly-subtle and still-psuedo-professional way. I got my nose pierced!

It's just a cute little stud, and it's not very noticeable, but I love it. It makes me feel like I have my own little rebel flag flying on my face. Take that, conformist America! You'll never get me!

Copyright infringement on...friendship bracelets?

Today, I looked at the Leaky Cauldron's 'Craft Along' post because I am, upon occasion, crafty. It turned out that it was directions for making those friendship bracelets that I made piles of when I was a kid, long before the internet existed. At the end of the directions, I find this warning:

"Please note that the patterns and tutorials you find here have been designed by Harry Potter fans all over the Internet. The authors alone hold the copyrights and licences to these patterns and tutorials, which means you CANNOT use their patterns to make something that you will sell to others afterwards. You can use them to make things for yourself. You can make some for your friends and ask them to pay for supplies. You CANNOT, however, ask them to pay you to do it as though you had created this pattern by yourself, or try to sell you crafts to a local store.
Think about it. Would you take a Prisoner of Azkaban book, photocopy it, put your name in big red letters on the front cover and try to sell it in your local library? The answer is, obviously, no. Well, selling crafts you have made but not designed would be just as bad!"

This is possibly the silliest thing I have ever heard. Whoever posted that on the internet didn't make it up. I didn't make up the knit or purl stitch, but if I knitted a scarf, I can still sell it. The entire bracelet is made up of knots. Who invented the knot? Because I think that's really who should own the rights to these friendship bracelets. Do you think he would mind if we were using his knots for friendship bracelets?

Our Little Patriot, or How Liberals Don't Really Hate America

From ages two until five, I lived on an air force base in the Upper Peninsula of Michigan called K.I. Sawyer. I still sleep in a ratty old t-shirt of my father's from there. My very first memories come from there. Though I don't remember it firsthand, my mother likes to tell the story about how, every day when they would broadcast the national anthem (1984 much?), I would force all of my toddler friends to line up and put their hands over their heart. I know it may come as a shock to some of you, but I was a bossy little kid. There was no getting out of this. My parents called me their "little patriot". Imagine how appalled they are 20 odd years later that I've become an America-hating liberal, right?

Well, first of all, no. My parents taught me to think for myself, and I don't think there's any greater testament to their success in that regard than to have raised two kids that are beyond even the average liberal.
And secondly, I don't hate America.

I know, right? Conservatives hate import cars and organic food and liberals hate freedom and America. Isn't that how it goes?

I've been tired of this bullshit since 9/11. In a country where free speech is the foundation, disagreeing with your government is, again, a testament to their success. The fact that I can rage on my blog about how much I hate certain politicians and policies is what makes this country great. You know what else makes it great? (I compiled much of this list while studying abroad in Barcelona for 9 months)

• 24 hour stores
• Peanut butter
• Cheap(er) housing
• Cheap(er) gas and utilities
• Availability of 47 choices of shampoo

Etc. There were plenty of things that I missed about the U.S. when I didn't live here. Of course, there are many things that I miss about Europe now that I don't live there. It seems that no one can really be perfect (Surprise!).
Which brings me to Skepchick's post about patriotism. In it, she says:

"I think patriotism is too close to nationalism to be safe; both are just souped up versions of tribalism. These things lead to “us versus them” thinking and to conflict being preferred over cooperation. It’s OK to love your country. But to be proud just because you were born somewhere is ridiculous. To ignore the flaws of your country and to refuse to criticize your government is dumb. And to think your country is the only great (free, safe, healthy, etc.) nation in the world is just delusional."

We are all lucky to have been born into a country where abject poverty isn't the norm. One in which most of us have had the opportunity to get a good education, even beyond high school. Many of us have even lived in the upper 10% of the income bracket for much of our lives (which is, by the way, much lower than you think it is). Being born into middle or upper-middle class America doesn't make you the best, it makes you damn lucky. And yes, be proud that your parents worked hard, and their parents before them, to bring this into being. But don't think for a minute that this makes us entitled or better than anyone else. Skepchick:

"You know what? It’s OK not to be #1 in everything or anything. We don’t need to be a super power. We don’t need to constantly prove that we are better than everyone else. That’s just a sign of insecurity. That just leads to being a bully. Why can’t the US be happy — like everyone else is — just to be good? Why do we always have to convince ourselves that we are great, the greatest? Our collective arrogance is one of the things I hate about the US."

You don't have to be #1, either, you know. Let's just be happy being good at what we do - professions, personal relationships, cooking, making people laugh, whatever. I know we are all talented, wonderful people in some regard.
You, too, America. We think you're great, just a little full of yourself sometimes. And no one likes a braggart.

(Thanks to Eric for sharing Skepchick on Reader and sparking this whole thing.)

February 23, 2009

So, I was incredibly dumb today. Like, ditzy awful dumb.

Last night, Cohen&Grigsby (JP's summer job firm) hosted a summer party at the president's house. The invite said "casual attire", but JP explained to me that this meant I should wear a dress. I have been worrying about this for the past few months, trying to figure out how to interact with all these lawyers and their spouses and talk to them about their houses and kids (of which I have neither). So, trepidatious, we drove out to the $783,000 house (I looked up the address on the county assessment website, lol.). It was gorgeous, of course, and wonderfully, tastefully decorated. I was amazingly impressed. And everyone was so super nice. Not actually that difficult to talk to, and most of them seemed fascinated by my work. I was surprised at how many young people were there, and how many of them had kids. Things were looking like this would be a perfectly fun time.
So, I'm standing with JP, sipping my (very weak) vodka&soda, and I get dizzy. Not just normal spin-head dizzy, but tunnel-vision-I'm-going-to-faint dizzy. I tell JP I need to sit down and he starts to end the conversation, and I tell him I need to sit down NOW, and I just walk away. As I'm walking towards an empty table in the driveway, I realize I'm not just light-headed. I'm about to throw up.

I run to the bottom of the driveway where there are some bushes and trees to block me from site and just vomit, right there, on the mulch part of the landscape of the president of Cohen&Grigsby's beautiful house and lawn. Mm-hmm.
And the neighbors were pulling into the driveway as I did it.

So then I decide I need to sit, but am too mortified to return to the party. I walk to our car (a couple blocks away) and try to call JP. No answer. So I call my next help person - my mom. She's not there, but Erik is and he says he will come get me if I need him to. We hang up, JP calls back. I explain everything to him and he comes to the car with some water. He says it's no big deal to leave (it was already 9:30 or so) and heads back to make his goodbyes. We get home without incident.

What does every girl think when they throw up randomly? What am I most scared of?
I woke up and decided to take a pregnancy test, because I am that paranoid. I bought this last one in a pack of 2, so I had thrown out the directions. It's an ept early detection test. I take it and it looks like this:



Two lines. Two lines means you're pregnant. Omigodnoseriously?!? I sit in the bathroom for a few minutes and then walk out to the living room to tell JP. He takes it really well, I cry. I insist on taking more tests (a la Katherine Heigl in 'Knocked Up'), and we need to get groceries for the Father's Day brunch we're having tomorrow. How ironic, right? So we go to Whole Foods and then I send JP to the liquor store (thinking all the while "no drinking gin and tonics for 9 MONTHS") while I go to Walgreen's. While there, I go to the home pregnancy test section and am trying to find another 2 or 7 tests to take. And then I see the ept box:

It's a plus-minus system. Not a 2 line system.
3 f*cking hours of being 100%, totally convinced I was pregnant. Telling JP that. Discussing it, thinking about it (When's the last time I had sushi? Dammit! No more sushi!), freaking out about it, crying about it, having the internet figure out my due date (February 23, 2009)...and it turns out I'm just a complete moron.
February 23rd is a Monday next year, but who's up for some celebratory cocktails that day?

Good for me, good for you

Rendell signed the smoking ban. In 90 days or so, Pennsylvania will be non-smoking in 95% of workplaces. This doesn't include bars that get more than 80% of their business from alcohol, casinos, and "private clubs". So, all restaurants and most bars will be smoke-free.

I have mixed feelings. Politically, I have no issues with making someplace smoke-free. Personally? Well...

I don't mind going outside to have a cigarette about 80% of the time. The other 20% annoys me, but I can deal.
You know what I can't deal with? People who thumb their nose at smokers and say nanny-nanny boo-boo. Like it's just been a big battle between the two, and the non-smokers have won somehow. If this was put to a public vote, I would have voted for the smoking ban. This doesn't mean I won't miss my cigarettes at the bar at PHI, talking to Rob or Eugene or whoever. But please don't rub it in my face, either. It's a touchy subject.

If only I were eighteen again

I'm sure you are all reading that and shuddering. I can hardly believe I wrote it myself. Let me explain.
Tom Petty was Tuesday night, after much anticipation. This was my third (fourth?) time seeing him at Star Lake (huge outdoor amphitheatre that has both covered seats and lawn). The last time I went, there was a little too much indulgence and things did not go well. I needed to purge these memories, and there is just about no one I would rather see in concert than Tom Petty. Shannon and I bought tickets in March, two days after they went on sale. We've been planning for awhile. And everything went totally according to plan!
We picked everyone up, got to Star Lake, grilled, drank, met up with everyone we needed to, and made it in on time. We even got to see a little of Steve Winwood.

A Tom Petty show is an interesting conglomerate of people. If you are even remotely a stoner in high school (or hang out with them) or if you go to college, I believe it is unofficially mandated that you memorize his 'Greatest Hits' album. This means he has a huge fan base, and that every song is essentially a classic. On his set list, there were 3 songs that I don't know every single word to. Other than that, it's like listening to my favorite Petty songs, but also dancing along in the grass with 25,000 other people who feel the same way. Zac and I had an interesting conversation about that concept, which went something like this:

Zac: All these people, they are all here because they all care about Tom Petty.
Me: Well, I'm sure they care about other people, too.
Zac: Yes, I'm sure they all have family and loved ones. I wasn't trying to suggest that they were soulless monsters.

You've all heard about my strange taste in men, so it should come as no surprise that the Tom Petty crowd is full of eye candy for me. Long hair, maybe slight hippie leanings with a dash of metal thrown in, and facial hair. It's like the required outfit for boys. And yes, I mean boys and not men.
The group standing in front of us were having a good time, just like us. I thought the one was cute. At some point, his friend turned around, and I was appalled. He was just a kid! I looked at the rest of them. No facial hair...and not in the clean-shaven way. How old was the cute one? My friend Brooke was just too curious and asked him. 18. 18!! That means that he had either just graduated from high school or was about to. He's never been to college, and if he drank in the parking lot, someone else had to buy him the liquor. Egads.
So what did I do? I made friends with them in the only way you can at a huge outdoor concert when 'Last Dance with Mary Jane' is playing. And then they kept us as friends during 'You Don't Know How it Feels'.

Afterwards, I felt guilty partying it up like that with someone that young, until I really remembered being 18. Then I just felt jealous. What did they have to do the next day? Go to their part-time Bruegger's job? What were they doing for the rest of the summer? I'm guessing it wasn't data collection and trying to pay down credit cards. I woke up the next day in my own apartment, and didn't do anything at all. I ate cereal for lunch and Thai food that I ordered myself for dinner. I watched TV, putzed on the internet, and read. I could've eaten ice cream for dinner if I wanted. I could've taken the car that I paid for somewhere. That made me feel a little better.

And then I listened to the Traveling Wilburys, and felt even better.



"Well, it's all right, even if you're old and grey. Well, it's all right - you've still got something to say." Believe me, I am far from grey, and I do have a lot more to say. Even if what I have to say is about 401Ks and buying a house and avoiding suburbia for the rest of my life. They'll grow up, too. I just hope they end up still having fun in 8 years.

Set list:
You Wreck Me
Mary Jane's Last Dance
I Won't Back Down
Even The Losers
Free Fallin'
Cabin Down Below
Sweet William
End Of The Line
The Waiting
Saving Grace
Face In The Crowd
Honey Bee
You Don't Know How It Feels
Learning To Fly
Don't Come Around Here No More
Refugee

Encore:
Runnin' Down A Dream
Mystic Eyes
American Girl

Friday the 13th

I've had a lot of good Friday the 13ths since my birthday is on the 13th (best birthdays, hands down), but today is not shaping up that way. Quick rant before 8:15 a.m.:

I am tired of getting emails that essentially say "Did you do your job like I asked?" since there has never once been a time when I have not done something time-sensitive within the allotted time.
I don't appreciate your little passive-aggressive email that said "Does this really specific format of this data exist?" when you really mean "Can you put together this really specific format of data for me?" I would be less annoyed if you just asked in the first place. Of course it doesn't exist, and of course I can throw it together for you. That's my job.
If you would read the instructions that I sent you months ago, I would not have to send you 6 emails about what you have done wrong. You are an adult. Read them, follow them. Or don't work for me. Simple as that.

/rant

Failure!

Shocking, no?

14 As a 1930s wife, I am Very Poor (Failure) Take the test!

Thwarted yet again

My wish came true! It stopped raining! I can rollerblade again!
Except i can't.
After the rain stopped, mother nature cruelly threw in the only other weather in which I will not go outside and exercise in: 95 degrees.

I don't know about the rest of you, but I hate summer. I never want it to be above 80 degrees. I am ok if I can go outside in a tank top, jeans, and flip flops comfortably, but hotter than that, and I'm the most miserable person ever. You see, we don't have central air. We have one window unit for our somewhere-between-800-and-1,000 square foot apartment. This does make a difference, but not nearly enough. Last year, I set up what I thought was an ingenious method of fans to keep cool:

This year, I decided it wasn't enough and added 4 more fans to our repertoire. I believe that before this, every fan we own was given to us by my parents or in-laws. I had never bought fans before, and damn, are they expensive. I wanted to buy the modern looking, oscillating tower fans, but they were $60 each, and I couldn't justify spending almost $250 on fans. So I bought 2 small high-velocity fans and then 2 of the circular oscillating fans. Here's the new system:
It's been fairly cool today, even after I cooked breakfast. This heat wave isn't supposed to let up anytime soon, so hopefully this is a manageable system. I think the key was taking the cooler air from the back and pushing it out towards the sunny part. I've also closed all of our blinds to at least halfway, which I hate, but I'm sure makes a difference.

The worst part of all this was when JP came to me yesterday while I was doing dishes and said, "Do I have a fever?" I touched him and freaked out. After several courses of cold compresses, feet in cool water, and drinking tons of water, he was delirious. I forced him into a cool bath and then fed him some carrots (I was worried about electrolytes after all the water, plus it was amusing to watch him eat carrots in the bathtub.). His fever mostly broke after that, but hours later when I bought a thermometer, it was still at 100 degrees. That means he was probably running around 102 or 103 earlier. Yikes! Personally, I only get fevers if I am at death's door, so I was scared. Plus, JP delirious? Yeah, not fun.

The Fringe Benefits of Failure, and the Importance of Imagination

Regardless of the whole Lexicon thing, I was interested in reading JKR's speech for Harvard's graduation. It was a good speech. It was certainly better than my commencement speech. (It seems that Pitt doesn't try at all with their speakers.) It was also very much a commencement speech, which is fine since it was a graduation. There was one part, though, that brought me to tears.

"The friends with whom I sat on graduation day have been my friends for life. They are my children’s godparents, the people to whom I’ve been able to turn in times of trouble, friends who have been kind enough not to sue me when I’ve used their names for Death Eaters. At our graduation we were bound by enormous affection, by our shared experience of a time that could never come again, and, of course, by the knowledge that we held certain photographic evidence that would be exceptionally valuable if any of us ran for Prime Minister."

While I do not have the benefit of having lived an additional 16 years with my friends, and while we may have graduated in different years, the sentiment is the same. You will be my children's (secular) godparents, the people I turn to in times of trouble, the inspiration for the names of evil things that I create. And yes, much will continue to change. One thing never will, though.

I will always have that photographic evidence. Ha! You're screwed.

ps Perhaps the sentence in the penultimate paragraph should have been written like this to avoid any confusion as to whose words were actually used: You will be "my children's" (secular) "godparents, the people" I "turn" to "in times of trouble", the inspiration for the names of evil things that I create.
(All words in quotes are that of JKR (and possibly WB). No copyright infringement is intended and no money is being made from the use of these words. Unless my friends read it and want to give me money for writing nice things about them. I'll let you know.)

I am not a college student.

Dear Landlord,

When I called you today to ask a very simple question and mentioned having people in an apartment in our building, I did not appreciate the fact that you berated me and told me to make sure we did not "go too late" or "make too much noise". I have been your tenant for the past two years. In all of that time, how many noise complaints have you received about us? Not once have we ever had anyone complain. If I ever think we may be loud, I speak to my neighbors beforehand. However, having 10 people in an apartment (5 of which LIVE IN THE BUILDING) at 6pm on a Friday night does not seem unreasonable to me. I pay you plenty to have the opportunity to have friends at my home.

Now, let's talk about the past few weeks. I do understand that it was very exciting to the majority of people in Pittsburgh that the Penguins were in the playoffs and the Stanley Cup finals, even though I don't care. Does this give the college students downstairs the right to whoop and holler at 1 am (in the third overtime, I understand) on a Monday night? Did I complain about that? Did I complain that they had many people over three times a week (two of those times being weekdays) for the past 3-4 weeks? No, I sucked it up and grumbled because that's what you do when you live in a building with 11 other units in it.

I am not a college student. I am an adult, I pay my own rent, and I am a good tenant and neighbor. Your comment was out of line and completely ridiculous.

Sincerely,
Freya

Thwarted

Yesterday, I realized I didn't really like the helmet I bought for rollerblading, so I decided to see if I could find a better one. After calling several bike shops and REI, I wandered to Squirrel Hill after work and finally found one! It fits, I think it's kinda cute, and it's green(ish)! Plus there were three really friendly guys and the most adorable dog in the shop. Yay.

Then it started raining. And it hasn't stopped, and it's not supposed to until tomorrow sometime. Boo! I was all geared up to go out last night and then again today! Normally, everyone complains about the rain and I secretly cheer. I like rainy days. I don't mind using an umbrella and dodging puddles, and I even don't mind my jeans getting wet at the bottom and then wicking its way up to my knees. Will I now berate the Pittsburgh weather that I have come to love, just like the rest of the population here? What's next, watching hockey? I won't be sucked into your Pittsburgh ways! I have resisted for 16 years! You won't get me now!

Speaking of obsessions...

Remember when I sort of met Seth Rogen and went through that obsessive phase about him? And I wrote this and this, too? And noted his appearances here and here?
Yeah, well, the Zack and Miri teaser has come out, and I am feeling that again. Hardcore. Anyone wanna watch some Apatow sometime soon?

Addiction and Obsessions

I know I promised to blog about the rest of my trip, but I'm not feeling inspired about that right now. I have spent the past week trying to readjust to being home again, and I've discovered something exciting - rollerblading!
So, I guess this does have a little bit to do with my trip, because Laura was going to throw away a pair of rollerblades that just happened to fit me perfectly. I snatched them up (along with a larger duffel she was getting rid of to store them in) and I have been out twice since I've had them. Once was just around the neighborhood and the other time was with JP and Zac to a Pittsburgh Venture Outdoors event where they teach you rollerblading. It turns out that it's just like riding a bike, so I can rollerblade quite well, even thought it's been about 14 years. And now I think I'm obsessed. I went out tonight and bought wrist guards, elbow pads, a helmet, and a hydration pack. On Wednesday, I plan to meet the Pittsburgh Inline Club to skate around Shadyside. Yay! New friends and physical activity? Crazy!

My super excitement about this has made me reflect upon the many different addictions and obsessions I have had throughout my life.
First and foremost, we have cigarettes (based on this article, I'm convinced it's genetics and not entirely my fault that I can't quit.). There's coffee as well. These are the only two constants that I really have. Otherwise, I go through phases where I'm obsessed with reading fanfiction, writing, photography, television, making altered books, surfing the web, doing yoga, playing DDR, baking, cooking, cleaning, etc., etc., etc. Usually I discover a new passion, buy all the required gear/supplies for it, do it for a week, and then totally disregard it. Being slightly more financially stable makes this even worse. It's suddenly not a huge deal if I go out and buy $20 worth of fabric and thread for the sewing machine that I have never used.

Luckily, this addictive part of my personality does not seem to apply to the usual things. Yes, I went through a binge drinking phase, but I was depressed and easily stopped it once I realized it was just making matters worse. There was that time I was addicted to Ambien, but it was definitely more about being able to sleep than the drug itself. Based on the incidence of alcoholism in the family, I consider myself fortunate for this.

This rollerblading thing, though. I really hope it sticks. I'd love to be in shape. Today, I didn't get the chance to do anything active and I'm considering skipping happy hour to go skating tomorrow. I've met those crazy people who can't go a day without exercise, and they usually freak me out. Here's hoping that my latest addiction sticks - even if I do freak out some other lazy people who haven't yet discovered they love rollerblading/biking/running/climbing/yoga/pilates yet.

End of Chicago and Day One

I am home safe and I plan on blogging the whole trip, just a little at a time. Work is crazy after being off for 3 days, so the last thing I really wanted to do tonight was sit in front of the computer. But here is update #1, to be followed by more. And pictures, eventually.

So, on Friday the movers finally finished around 8 and Laura's friends Sheera, Libby, and Libby's boyfriend, Chris, came over. We ate Indian food on the floor of Laura's now empty apartment. It was actually pretty great. Sleeping on the floor was much less bad than I expected it to be, with the help of a yoga mat and a featherbed. We got off a little late the next day (11ish) and did some exciting things, like crossing the Mississippi. The highlight of Iowa was the convenience store, Kum 'n Go. I bought 6 lighters with their logo for all my smoker friends and a cheap leather wristband with skulls on it. It was awesome. We hightailed it out of there because there was a tornado warning and didn't want to be sucked up and then spit back out again. Shortly after that, we saw cows lying down. That means rain or tornadoes or something like that, so we were a little freaked. City girls don't do well in the middle of nowhere.

We managed to make it to the middle of Nebraska that day, and stopped in Kearney (pronounced carnie...like, guy that works at a carnival). We stayed at a Rodeway Inn that actually allowed pets and ordered pizza and chilled.

Speaking of pets...Ruby was a doll. She did puke once, but cat puke is something I'm well accustomed to, so no big.

Overall, good day. The 75 mph speed limit definitely helped things along, and relaxing in the hotel room (with free wi-fi!) after a day in the car was decadent.
Stay tuned for...Wyoming!

Things are not boding well.

Here's an entry I wrote yesterday, but just now got the chance to post:

Even though I am so far having a very excellent time with Laura and Eric, things haven’t exactly been going swimmingly.

Let’s start with my flight, where I was seated in the very last row. In front of me was a man and his 4 year old, and across the aisle from them was the mother and a 1 year old. Next to her was some girl who appeared to be my age and was immediately cooing over the baby next to her, talking in a baby voice. Ugh. The two children proceeded to scream for the entire flight, with the non-relation girl singing pat-a-cake for most of it. I’m not sure which I thought was worse – the screaming or the singing. It was a relief to leave the plane, though I did have to wait for the entire rest of the flight to “deplane” (the flight attendant’s word, not mine). Laura and Eric grabbed me without incident and we drove back into the city to get dinner at this really cute tapas restaurant. The tortilla was good, the patatas bravas not so much. The pulpo, shrimp, and calamares were excellent, as was the flan and café con leche. We retired to Laura’s entirely packed apartment and went to sleep.

Today, the movers were supposed to arrive between 1 and 3. We headed out around 11 to run some errands (go to the bank, grab coffee, etc.)


On the walk home, we ran into this statue:


which I convinced Laura to molest with me.

We got home and Laura got a call around 1:15 to say that they’d be here closer to 3. Fine. Laura reminds them that she can only move until 5:45 and they reassure her that this won’t be a problem.

3:25 – Laura calls the company. They tell her they’ve been unexpectedly delayed by their former job and it will be at least a half an hour before they will be there.

4:25 – Laura calls the company. They tell her they are 15 minutes away.

5:15 – Laura calls the company. They tell her “there’s an accident” and that they will be there “soon”.

5:25 – Laura calls her landlord’s office to find out if she can still move out after 5:45. The girl tells her no. Laura presses her and the girl agrees, but only if Laura is willing to forfeit the $300 deposit she had to put down for the movers. Having no other options, Laura agrees.

5:45 – Laura calls the company. They tell her that the truck to get her stuff has been in an accident and that they have to wait to file a police report.

6:45 – The movers arrive. The boss guy goes over the contract with Laura. He has added fees for packing materials and a fuel surcharge that Laura was told was included. This adds several hundreds of dollars to the cost.

7:15 – Current time. Movers still moving, but nearly done. We’re all starving, not wanting to leave the apartment earlier since we had no idea when the movers would be here. Indian food later.

I'm leaving on a jet plane

Good news, though. I do know when I'll be back again.

My American roommate from Barcelona, Laura, has been going to grad school for her MSW in Chicago for the past 2 1/2 years. She has a summer internship, and then she's done! Cleverly, she arranged to have her internship in Portland, so that she and her boyfriend can stop doing the long distance thing and finally be together again. The bad news? Her boyfriend is going to a family reunion in Europe and won't be around to help her move.
Insert me. Tonight, I'm flying to Chicago, helping Laura with the movers tomorrow, packing up her car and cat, and driving off into the heart of America on Saturday. We're driving for three days, across parts unknown to me as an adult. Near as I can tell, this will be our route:


I am very much an East coast girl, so this will be strange for me. Nebraska? Wyoming? Idaho? All I know is this is a giant belt of red on political maps. Not many big cities, lots of prairie...Donny, I'm out of my element. Luckily, Laura lived in Kansas for several years (albeit in the one pocket of liberalness in the midst of Jerry Falwell land), so I'm counting on her to introduce me to the Midwest. The best part? Three uninterrupted days of Laura, which I haven't had since Barcelona, making it about five years. Last we saw each other was my wedding, where I was quite preoccupied. We have two years of catching up to do, with grad school and life taking a heavy toll on our time to talk, and I couldn't be more excited. I have five audiobooks for us, countless podcasts, and the 'Once More with Feeling' soundtrack. What else could we possibly need?

We'll get to Portland on Monday, and I have a red-eye booked for Tuesday night. The even better news is that I get to spend Tuesday in Portland with Laura, and Tim took the day off to come up and be with us! Tim Scott + Laura + a brand new city? Does life get better than that? So, I'll have a day in the city, dinner with them, and then I'm off to come home. It's a whirlwind trip for sure.

I'll have my laptop and camera (of course!), so I'll try to blog and upload pics as we go along. I don't know what the wi-fi situation will be like, but hopefully you'll hear from me at some point. If not, don't worry, I'll be back! Try not to have any big drama while I'm gone, hmm? I ask that of the world at large, because I'm not sure I'll have access to news and current events, let alone my little corner of the world (both real life and internet). I hope the whole Lexicon trial can wait these five days, because I'd hate to be totally out of the loop on that.