2010 May « Sizzle Says

Carry On My Friends

May 25, 2010 at 5:24 am | Posted in my neurosis | 17 Comments

I’m taking a week off blogging.

Nothing is wrong. Promise! I’ve just got a lot going on which leaves me with little time or energy to focus here.

See you next week, ok?

xo,

Sizz

We’re Captive on the Carousel of Time

May 24, 2010 at 6:56 am | Posted in adventures, family, fun & frolicking | 16 Comments

That? Was a really awesome weekend.

Friday night Supple and I braved the Eastside to meet up with Mr. Darcy and friends. Here’s a clip of what that was like:

Dog Ass & Supple impersonating Christopher Walken.

No seriously. Watch that clip. (Wow, I’m a real tyrant of a director when I’ve got some booze in me. “YOU ARE ALL QUITTERS!”)

Saturday was all about volunteering and working and yet, despite it being “work”, it was a lot of fun. As Mr. Darcy said to me, I was in my element. I do like chatting it up with folks and talking about the great work of the agency I work for. Plus we have this wicked cool new event coming up this summer and I’m super excited to get people to sign up. After a long day of giving back, we managed to drag ourselves to finally see Iron Man 2 which was good just not as good as the first one. Though Scarlett Johansson was pretty bad ass in my opinion. And hot.

An aside: Why is it that the person who talks through the movie is usually the dumbest one in the room?

Sunday we took Finn to the zoo where we saw Meerkats(!) and assorted other animals. Mr. Darcy and I both got shit on in the bird feeding area but Finn, the bird whisperer, did not. He found it pretty darn funny that we did though. We managed to survive pseudo-parenting for the afternoon though Mr. Darcy’s lower back hurt and my knee was hurting me. We’ve definitely decided that getting in better shape before we have a kid is an absolute must.

They had a little scuffle while we were there. Apparently the bathing/napping bear was not into having his space invaded.

These ones enjoyed eating off sticks the most.

Finn: The Bird Whisperer. Or, alternately, the one who does not get shit upon.

If you squint you can make the meerkats out. They are tiny like bunnies.

I always think of that song "Flamingo Baby" by the Violent Femmes when I see a flamingo.

These boys have my heart.

Giddy with anticipation.

Meet the Parents

May 19, 2010 at 6:18 am | Posted in family, float my boat, love | 47 Comments

I met Mr. Darcy’s parents on Sunday.

It should be noted that Mr. Darcy has never, up until this point, introduced anyone he has dated to his parents.

Let’s pause and absorb that.

Much like after meeting his sister, I am convinced he is dating an amalgamation of his mom and sister. Except, I’m his age and don’t share any genes. Within the first 15 minutes of meeting his mom she said something like, “He was really an asshole.” Then she looked at me and said, “Excuse me. But sometimes that word is appropriate.” And I replied something like, “Oh I agree. I use it all the time.” Then later over dinner we were sharing stories and I said, “He’s an asshole.” Then I looked at her and said, “This is one of those instances where that word is appropriate.” She’s a firecracker. I think we’ll be two peas in a pod. Or three if we squish his sister in with us.

His dad is more soft-spoken but still has his share of tales. He served in the military for many, many years. At one point during dinner he looked up from his food and said, “My father was blind.” But then he looked back down at his food and took another bite full. I was curious if that was the entire story or if there was more. “My father was blind too,” I said to him hoping to fill the space and also connect. He finished chewing and plowed back into this story about his father. It’s interesting for me to be around a dad. I don’t spend time around men that are over 50. I never really got to have regular conversations with my Dad. It feels a bit foreign to me to just chat like normal people. There’s a part of me that has always wished I had an older male figure in my life to look up to or lean on. So, I feel a mix of trepidation and nostalgia meeting Mr. Darcy’s father.

All this is to say that they are wonderful people and we had a relaxed, enjoyable time together. So much so that they invited me out to dinner again on Thursday and this time inquired if I would like to bring my Mom along. My Mom, upon asking her to come along replied, “I secretly hoped this would happen.” My Mom is a big fan of Mr. Darcy. I mentioned that his parents seemed to like me since I was apparently the topic du jour at lunch the following day. To which my Mom replied, ” Of course they are raving about you! They can see too that you both are MFEO.”*

Why yes, my Mom has seen “Sleepless in Seattle” one too many times.

And yep. The parental units are meeting.

*MFEO = Made For Each Other

Scenes from the Building

May 18, 2010 at 6:33 am | Posted in the super | 21 Comments

Phone rings.

Hi ______.

Hi Sizzle. It seems like the maintenance guy came in today instead of tomorrow.

Really? Why is that?

Well my stuff is moved from under the sink and a bag was left on top of my trash can.

That doesn’t make much sense. Why would he be in the kitchen when the work you requested he do is in the bathroom?

I don’t know but my stuff is moved. Maybe he needed to fix my sink? I did put an artichoke down the garbage disposal last night. . .

Aahhh. . . I know what happened. You putting an artichoke down the disposal caused your neighbor’s sink to back up. The plumbers were just here fixing it and they must have had to enter your apartment to fix the problem. I’m sorry you weren’t given proper notice. I would have never known that they were even in there if you hadn’t called.

It’s alright. I suppose it’s my own fault for putting the artichoke down the disposal.

{Um YES IT IS.}

I’m just embarrassed that my apartment is such a mess.

Trust me, you don’t know how some of your neighbors live. You have nothing to be embarrassed about.

****

Myself and a potential tenant are exiting a vacant apartment when we run into the neighbor from across the hall.

Hi ______. Whatcha doing? (She’s walking over to her neighbor’s apartment about to knock.)

Oh well I heard crinkling. I was going to ask _____ if he was crinkling something.

Her girlfriend is in the hallway with us, giggling.

Hmm, okay.

I know I must sound crazy. It’s just that I heard it. If it’s not him, maybe it’s a rat.

UH! HELLO! It’s not like I AM SHOWING AN APARTMENT TO SOMEONE WHO MIGHT WANT TO LIVE HERE OR ANYTHING. (To the potential tenant:) We do NOT have rodents. We never have.

Yeah, I’m just crazy. (To the potential tenant:) This is a great building.

Welcome to the building! She’s thankfully the harmless kind of crazy.

****

I received 3 voicemails in succession from the Music Man. They talk about how he was hearing very loud sawing noises and how he had yelled out to the offending sawing people, “DON’T RUIN THIS BUILDING!” Because that would help. He also said in two of the messages, “I not sure if you noticed but I am mentally ill.”

Really? You are mentally ill?! I never noticed! Not when you claimed someone was squatting in the upstairs apartment. Not when you claimed someone broke into your apartment and stole a battery. Not when you claimed someone was stealing your internet from five blocks away resulting in multiple calls to the police. Not when you asked your former neighbors to comply with a bizarre notification system where they put a stuffed animal in the window alerting you to when they are home or away. But hearing sawing and yelling about it to supposed offenders THAT YOU CAN’T SEE really convinces me.

****

Question: Is a compliment from a crazy person still a compliment?

Discuss.

Sun Soaked

May 14, 2010 at 6:32 am | Posted in fun & frolicking, my neurosis, visitors | 18 Comments

The sun is shining in Seattle which means we’re all rejoicing in our own sun-worshiping ways.

Some take to wearing very little clothing even though it’s only 73 degrees. A bit extreme if you ask me. Though I’ve come to realize that I do not own any sandals or flip flops except for the ones I got after getting a pedicure which really do not count. Some others (like myself) take a few minutes extra at lunch to soak up the rays. And then there are the people who get carried away tossing back a few brews in the afternoon sun. Like the two yesterday who stood outside my apartment building talking very loudly and very closely into each other’s faces. The female of the pair spoke to me as I carried a stack of window screens up the stairs to the front door:

“SCREENS! That’s smart. Those are new and CLEAN.”

She would emphasize certain words and her voice would rise a couple octaves. I ignored her. She spoke to her cohort:

“She’s SMART. Screens are DIRTY. Those NEW screens are hypoallergenic.”

I was surprised she could say hypoallergenic. Granted, she did slur it a bit.

Later they stood in the middle of the street and she repeatedly got in his face saying, “I need a CIGARETTE!” After a few rounds of that, they shuffled off randomly saying inexplicable things to strangers. The show was over and I was forced to resume cleaning my apartment.

All my tidying was in anticipation of my Jenny Two Times coming for a weekend visit. Hooray! We’ve got some loose plans. Probably some wine drinking, some sun enjoying, some thrifting, some live music listening and some brunching. Ok, fine. I have an itinerary. I HAVE A SICKNESS.

I told Mr. Darcy that I wasn’t going to schedule any big plans for June and he quipped something like, “Planned spontaneity. That’s awesome.”

Happy weekending everybody!

P.S. My mole results came back. All clear! Nothing to worry about.

Face Value

May 13, 2010 at 6:11 am | Posted in health | 18 Comments

“How long have you had acne?”

That’s not really a question anyone wants to hear, even from a doctor whose job it is to cure such things. The nature of my visit involved moles not zits.

“I’ve had breakouts off and on all my adult life.”

It’s true. It’s a cruel twist of fate. Or it’s a myth that acne is worse in the teen years. I have blemishes more frequently now than I did as a teen. Except for that one nasty bout of rash-like breakouts all along my chin when I was sixteen or seventeen. When it happened my mother said, “That’s what happens when you make out with a boy.” She was teasing. Or half-serious. I’m still not sure. But she took me to the dermatologist and I got some medication to help clear it up because I have always been vain about my face. When you grow up fat, you rely on it more.

So now, at the ripe age of 37 when my face is slowly being taken over by laugh lines and errant hairs and saggy skin and even what appears to be a small sun spot, I am being asked about a small, almost-gone pimple on my chin. Awesome.

We talked about the frequency and type and she pushed some medication on me that I am still not sure I want. I mean, the break outs are fairly infrequent and I take really good care of my skin. I wash. I moisturize. I use eye cream for christsake! Besides, I’m not that keen on taking some medication that could make me dizzy plus a host of other side effects just to zap an occasional zit. It’s not my top priority. Which is odd considering how vain I am about my face.

The real reason for the appointment, and we finally DID get to it, was to get the army of moles covering my back checked out. It’d been about 10 years since I last had them looked at and one on my left shoulder blade was suspiciously itchy. You can ask Mr. Darcy to testify to that since I am forever asking him to scratch it. It goes something like: No up a little. To the left more. Harder. Ohmygodyes that’s it! Right there! Thank you! And no, I’m not confusing mole itching with sexy time.

The doctor ended up removing the culprit and now it itches for an entirely different reason. But hopefully the lab comes out with positive results and I won’t have to go back in for another, deeper chunk of my back to be cut out like the last time. And with that visit, I have now accomplished two things on my 37 in 37 list. Only 35 left to go with a little over ten months left. Go me!

Let’s Get Serious

May 12, 2010 at 6:37 am | Posted in body image, everyday frustrations, health, my neurosis | 38 Comments

Today marks two weeks that I’ve been diligently following South Beach Phase 1- no fruit, no carbs, no alcohol- and what do I have to show for it? A mere 2.5lbs lost and an inch around my hips.

This is wholly disappointing to me.

Last time I did Phase 1 I lost close to 11 lbs in two weeks. Granted, my entire focus was on my health back then. I was a machine! Besides work, all I did was cook healthy food and work out. This time around I’ve found myself in the midst of a frenetic schedule with very little motivation around working out. Just a lot of guilt which, if you’ve never experienced it, feels like weights around the ankles and wrists. Debilitating and yet, not very helpful in taking off the pounds. Go figure.

So here I am, frustrated and disappointed. I suppose I thought this could be a quick fix to get me back to where I was in December weight-wise and that, in turn, would spur me on to getting back on track with fitness. Quick fixes never really sustain anyhow. I should have known better.

There’s a pull to give up entirely. To just say: “Fuck it. This is what I look like.” But I do not like what I look like. I am not comfortable. And I don’t like setting a goal and not reaching it. I do not settle for second best, especially when it comes to me.

Almost a year ago (give or take five days), I laid it out for all to read. I announced my starting weight to the interwebs. I set goals and achieved them. I was ready to take action. And now here I am feeling stalled and uninspired. I’m looking for a new spark to light my fire. A new invigoration in my waning gusto. Another chance at success.

On May 26th, 2009 I weighed 224lbs.

On May 12th, 2010 I weigh 193.5lbs.

I’ve lost 30lbs in a year.

I’m “supposed” to weigh something like 125lbs but I’d be comfortable weighing 150. That means I have 43.5lbs to go. Time to raise the bar, set new goals and quit with the excuses.

I am in charge of me.

Weekend Wrap Up

May 10, 2010 at 7:44 am | Posted in family, fun & frolicking | 27 Comments

I was out on an errand Friday afternoon when the hair salon called asking me to come in 20 minutes later than my scheduled appointment because the chick before me was stuck in traffic. I said sure and continued on my merry way. Not ten minutes later they called again and asked if there was any way I could come in now, like in 15 minutes, which would make me 30 minutes early for my scheduled appointment. I said I could do that and diverted my plan to run another errand, heading straight to the salon. On my way there, I swear not five minutes later, they called again. I was driving and let it go to voicemail. At a stop light I checked the message and they were asking if I could please come in 20 minutes late like they originally asked.

That’s about when I wanted to call them up and be all: FUCK YOU PEOPLE. Disorganization really pisses me off. But I didn’t because my hair was on the line. And I am incredibly vain about my hair.

I called them back and said, “Look. I don’t care if you want me to come in early or come in late but what I need is for you to MAKE A DECISION.” And so they did and I went to get a venti iced tea (non-flavored!) because all this bullshit made me thirsty.

*******

Saturday was spent in the company of women. First with my Mom and sister as a pre-Mother’s Day outing involving shopping, taco salads and buckets of sunshine. Second, with a group of super cool bloggers, all women, as we sat around on comfy couches talking about girlie things like merkins.

*******

Sunday I cooked up brunch for my family and we strolled around the farmer’s market. Then Mr. Darcy and I napped and ate pistachios in bed because we are decadent like that. He took me out to dinner and I took him to see the one, the only, the superb David Sedaris. We got home in time to watch Iron Chef and eat sugar free pudding.

My life is very glamorous.

I love my life.

*********

Dot has the sneezies. She sneezes like 3 or 4 times in a row. Most of the time on Mr. Darcy’s leg. I think she’s marking him.

I Just About Dyed

May 7, 2010 at 6:19 am | Posted in family, memory lane, vanity | 20 Comments

Toddler Sizzle

I think this is what my Mom is talking about when she refers (wistfully, I might add) to my natural hair color. As I recall, my hair turned a mousey shade of dull brown in my pre-teens which only spurred my use of Sun In as I lay poolside every summer. I haven’t had my natural hair color since I was 14 if you count those summer attempts at “natural” highlights.

I first dyed my hair with the help of my then-boyfriend, the infamous Tomato. We dyed it one day after school my senior year of high school. This was after I had already chopped off my shoulder length hair into a chin length bob which was probably the beginning of the end where this story is concerned. So when my Mom returned home from work that evening she saw me standing outside on the back deck in the sunlight, took one look at my now burgundy hair* and promptly walked out of the room.

When my Mom walks away you know she’s totally pissed.

Uh oh.

I thought Tomato was going to pee himself, he was so scared at her anger being directed at him for helping me dye my hair. This could seriously jeopardize his elite standing as Surrogate Member of the Family. Would his vast supply of orange juice and tomatoes suddenly be cut off at the Jones house? Would he no longer be welcome? Say it isn’t so!

I don’t recall if we had words though we probably did knowing us. My Mom and I are a lot alike- headstrong, outspoken, bossy- so we “exchanged words” a lot during my teen years. Plus, I was a bit of a bitch. (I’m sorry, Mom.) What I do remember is that my Mom didn’t speak to me for at least a week. And she worked at my school! Talk about awkward. All of my teachers would tell her how great my hair looked and she just fumed. She’s a tough one, that Mom of mine. Stubborn as a root.

This was worse than the time I bought a fake nose ring from a back ad in Sassy magazine and nonchalantly wore it in front of my Mom causing her to have a complete freak out. Her: WHAT DID YOU DO TO YOUR NOSE {insert full name here}?! Me: Juuuuuuust kidding, Mom. See? It’s fake?(removing it and holding it out to her).

She didn’t find it very amusing. Maybe pranking your Mom to the point of a heart attack is not such a great idea?

It’s been twenty years since then and I *think* my Mom has gotten used to my hair shenanigans. She may have even resigned herself to it being short and some various shade of red. Because, who am I trying to kid? I’ll never have long hair again. And if I were to let it go natural now? I’d have completely salt & pepper colored locks. I’m just not ready for that yet! Give me ten more years (at least).

(Happy Mother’s Day, Mom! In your honor I am getting my hair cut & colored tonight. I promise not to dye it burgundy.)

*I was “Mod”. What do you expect? It went well with Docs and thrift store clothes. Which, by the way, was back before vintage stores stole all the good stuff and marked it up. Le sigh. Those were the good ol’ days.**

** I am officially old with that statement.

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