Ready, Set, JET

September 30, 2010 at 7:03 am | Posted in adventures, travel | 25 Comments

The pup is returned to his owner and I can finally breathe a sigh of relief. I’ve been a super stress case the last few days and I have the chin zit to prove it. But today I board a plane to California and things are looking up. I even took myself out last night for some sushi and retail therapy and bought myself some jeans that (gasp!) I find comfortable. It could have been a fluke though- the dressing room mirrors and lighting combined with coming down off a stress high and trying to hurry so I could go get some unagi. I could very well put them on today and change my mind. I am fickle like that.

I am devoutly a dress and skirt girl. What can I say? Pants often draw all my attention to my stomach and frankly, I already direct 82% of my self-loathing to that area of my body so I don’t need any help with that. I am not sure when exactly I shifted to dresses but I remember when I started my weight loss journey and I had a mental picture of what I wanted to be able to wear and feel comfortable. The outfit included me in a dress with a belt and boots. And now? That’s basically my uniform (add a flower pin and maybe a cardigan or fitted jacket). Maybe it’s time for me to revision my wardrobe and dream up a new goal outfit?

All this fashion nonsense rambling is to say, I’m going on a plane! And I might wear jeans! And if I do, I will take a picture for prosperity posterity.* Promise. I’ll daydream about my new fashion focus while flying Virgin Airlines for the first time. I hear it’s divine.

This is my first solo-adventure since hooking up with my fartner in crime, Mr. Darcy. He’ll be left alone with his military channel and cartoons and his pistachios and iced tea where he can leave the toilet lid up without complaint, go to bed without brushing his teeth, not bother to make the bed, eat take out for every meal without my judging eyes and sleep past noon if the cats will let him (good luck with that, honey!).

He is in charge of the building should any problems arise and keeping the cats in line. The cats who have confused our new living room rug as their new scratching place. It was a nice rug and I should have taken a picture of it when we got it A WEEK AGO because it’s looking pretty haggard. Those darn cats are the reason we can’t have nice things.

All this is to say I am really looking forward to a change of pace and sleeping in a luxurious hotel bed, some quiet by myself, some quality time with Rae Rae & Run Run, James Dean & Natalie Wood, Bird, and the beach. I am bringing my lap top for the fist time so you might just hear from me tomorrow too.

*Posterity not prosperity. The jeans aren’t gonna make me rich. OR WILL THEY!?!

I am not a sideline person.

September 29, 2010 at 6:08 am | Posted in the super | 44 Comments

If there is one thing that rallies the fierce protector in me it is an animal in need. If there is a natural disaster, I donate money to care for the animals. If someone loses a pet, I donate money to the animal rescue organization. If I see a homeless person with a pet, I get the pet food or give the person money for the pet. If I see a dog wandering around lost, I will pull over and try to help it find its home. It breaks me to watch shows where animals are treated inhumanely. An episode of Hoarders where a woman has 36 cats, more than she even realized she had, most of them sick, all of them living in their own feces and not properly cared for drives me to tears and outrage.

So when The Music Man’s friend called me yesterday afternoon to ask for access to MM’s apartment because the dog was locked in the bathroom and needed to be walked I LOST IT. Granted, I internally lost it because I was at work but I quickly finished up what I was doing at the office and rushed home so I could let the pup out. He’d been in there since 11:30 the night before! It was 3:30pm when I opened the bathroom door. SIXTEEN HOURS locked in a bathroom. He had defecated, peed and thrown up. The bathroom was a mess with cleaning supplies (clearly not used) strewn about that the dog could have chewed up in his anxiety. There were fleece blankets for him to lay on but he had puked on them. I cleaned up the mess while the dog ran around the apartment looking for his owner and barking. I got it fresh water but he was too busy being free from that small, dirty space. I leashed him and we went out for a walk.

His demeanor totally changed once he was out. He peed 4 times in the span of 5 minutes. He would look up at me and wag his tail. We returned to the apartment and I tried to get him to eat but he was too playful, bringing me a toy and wanting to play tug-o-war. We played and I petted him as he tried to lick my face. I dreaded having to put him back in that bathroom but I had to go to an appointment then another appointment then to pick Kaply up at the airport. I couldn’t keep him with me.

With fresh water and food, I put him in and shut the door. He howled and barked and whined and my heart just broke. I forced myself to leave. I called both of The Music Man’s friends to let them know that we needed an alternate arrangement for the dog because his barking would disturb the other tenants besides the fact that it was just cruel to leave him trapped for hours on end in that bathroom. I left for my appointment and called my Mom who graciously and generously and without hesitation offered to take the dog for the night.

See where I get it?

I worried about over-stepping my boundary as an apartment manager. I’ve worked hard to hold a firm line with The Music Man in the past months, staying far away from any friend-like overtures because he takes any inch. But I could not stand by and not help that dog. I was doing it for the dog, not The Music Man. I got a hold of one of MM’s friends and he agreed that it would be best if I was able to take the dog which was all the go ahead I needed. I went to my appointments, ran home to pick up the dog and some food, and dropped him at my Mom’s before picking up Kaply and her 100lb luggage at the airport.

His friends say that The Music Man will be back today. They both initially said that MM was in the hospital suddenly. At first I didn’t tell them what I knew because what if MM was lying to them? But finally I was like, “Listen. I saw The Music Man leave with three officers late last night in handcuffs. I know he is not at a hospital.” Then they filled me in about how he is harmless and just went overboard contacting a person who has a restraining order against him. It actually made perfect sense given MM’s behavior. He is a bit over-the-top and has a problem with harassment. I’ve experienced it first-hand!

When The Music Man returns I am going to require him to have a back up plan if he needs to leave suddenly without the dog. A friend needs spare keys to his apartment and to be responsible for picking up the dog and taking him in or to boarding. I do not want to be the one who gets the dog removed from him as I know that that dog is his companion and lifeline in a lonely life ripe with a terminal illness and mental health issues. He loves that dog and takes very good care of him. . .when he’s not being hauled off to jail.

I know I’ve gotten too involved but like I said, there was an animal in need and my conscience couldn’t abide with me sitting by and letting it be someone else’s problem. If you see a problem, it’s yours. The world doesn’t get better if we all just watch from the sidelines.

How could you not help this little guy?

Why I didn’t get enough sleep last night.

September 28, 2010 at 6:28 am | Posted in the super | 33 Comments

I was falling asleep on the couch watching Castle when I said, “That’s it. I’m putting myself to bed.” Mr. Darcy joined me a few minutes later, tuckered out himself from staying up late the night before working on one of his contract gigs. We’re laying there in the muggy night, the fan blowing, restlessly shifting under covers trying to get comfortable, having an idle, sleepy conversation when the front door buzzer goes off. Once, then again, insistently. I get up and go to the phone in the hall, lifting the receiver, “Hello?” I’m thinking it’s a tenant who has locked themselves out so I am prematurely irritated.

“This is the Seattle Police. Please let us in.”

Excuse me?

“Uh, ok. Is there something I can help you with officer?”

“No. This concerns a different apartment.”

I buzz them in and turn to tell Mr. Darcy what’s happening. We both throw on clothes and make our way down the stairs. Before we hit the bottom floor we can hear the officers talking and a tenant, The Music Man, is frantically explaining he has a dog, he is sick, etc. There is panic in his voice and we hear handcuffs as the officer says, “Just turn around. Calm down.”

That’s when I looked at Mr. Darcy and said, “I don’t want any part in this. Let’s go.” And we booked it back up to our apartment. I felt embarrassed for the Music Man and also a little scared. The officers clearly didn’t need the managers butting in or they would have asked to speak with us when they rang our buzzer.

From our living room windows we could see not one but three cop cars parked on the corner. We sat in a dark apartment keeping watch on them, waiting to see if they were in fact hauling off The Music Man. A total of 20 minutes had passed since they rang the buzzer when we saw three officers walk out the side of the building with The Music Man, dressed in a t-shirt and shorts and what looked like no shoes, a suit blazer hung from his gaunt shoulders, his arms not in the sleeves because they were handcuffed behind his back. One officer held him by the arm and in the other hand held a plastic grocery bag filled with what looked like clothes. They put him in the back seat of one of the cruisers and then two officers had a casual conversation beside it while the one who hauled Music Man used a sanitary wipe to clean his hands.

I have no idea what he did, why he was arrested, or where his dog is since he lives alone and there wasn’t enough time for someone to show up to take the dog. We stayed up even longer talking about what could have happened to get him arrested. It could be anything really. I don’t know how much I should know though a tenant living in my building who can get arrested? Is not really a tenant I want. That’s not the kind of building we run. I feel bad for him as he is very sick, paranoid, and mentally unstable. I’ve alerted the landlords and will wait to see what happens.

9

September 27, 2010 at 5:29 am | Posted in float my boat, love | 28 Comments

Yesterday Mr. Darcy and I celebrated nine months together.

It feels like longer. In the best way possible.

**Nice shirt, right? Thanks to Kerri for the lead on it!

Permission to Falter & Pick Yourself Back Up

September 23, 2010 at 7:52 am | Posted in health, my neurosis, yoga | 29 Comments

A bad mood overtook me yesterday afternoon and I have no idea why. Maybe it was because my belt felt tight (belts are supposed to be tight). Maybe it was because I ate 5 peanut M & M’s and felt subsequent guilt from ingesting them (five measly candies aren’t going to ruin my entire life, get a grip self). Maybe it was because I was working late in a quiet office while everyone else ran off to evenings of fun. Maybe it was because I was supposed to go to yoga and instead of fixating on how good I would feel after, I was mentally hooked on the idea of having to find a partner to do handstands with because Supple couldn’t come to class.

Seriously. Am I 12? What is with this junior high bullshit way of thinking?

But I was stuck there, in that negative thought process, considering how my body felt big and how out of shape I am. Fretting that fellow classmates would not want to pair up with me because I am not thin. YES! I THOUGHT THAT! I can’t believe I am admitting it to you but there it is. I didn’t think about how I’ve been going to yoga at least 3 times a week for weeks now or how despite not dropping any pounds, my body is getting stronger and more toned. I held plank pose for an entire minute! I can get myself into an assisted half-handstand and hold it for sixty whole seconds! I have never done a handstand of any kind in my life before. These are not small feats. And yet, I don’t think of those successes as often as I think of my weakness and supposed failures.

My therapist brought up how far I have come this past year. I was startled to hear her list the ways in which I am different- living differently, doing things that I only used to mull over not actually DO. Why is it that I can’t congratulate myself more? Why is that negative self-talk so loud? Who gave that voice inside me a loudspeaker? Cut the power!

So last night I skipped yoga. I drove around trying to find parking to no avail and used that as the excuse to bail. But really who am I bailing on? ME. I couldn’t seem to push past the fear. Instead I came home, grumpy and disinterested in connecting with Mr. Darcy because I was too caught up in my spiral of self-loathing. I made myself go into the bedroom, close the door, journal what was churning inside me then lay out the mat and practice. Ok, so I didn’t go to class. That doesn’t mean I can’t go to the mat and try to find myself under all the mind chatter. As I held each pose I settled deeper into my body and got more out of my head. I felt my muscles awaken. I relished in the stretch, the burn, the core of my body coming alive. I breathed deep. I set my stopwatch and held plank for a minute. I smiled a smile that came from within. I silently blessed that scared little girl inside me and stood taller as I walked out the door to kiss my boyfriend hello.

Who’s Yours?

September 22, 2010 at 6:15 am | Posted in reader participation, the office | 53 Comments

My friends from work and I spent our lunch break yesterday discussing which actor makes us not see a movie or tv show.  Tom Cruise was mentioned multiple times which isn’t surprising.  Honestly, I never really got his appeal even in “Risky Business” or “Top Gun” but yes, I’ve seen those films and “Jerry Maguire”, etc. Mel Gibson got honorable mention. I posed the question on Twitter and Keanu Reeves to Andie MacDowell to Ashton Kutcher were mentioned among others.

I kept coming up with actors I don’t like but who I could be convinced to see given other cast members. For example, I don’t care for Cameron Diaz but I’ve seen “In Her Shoes” because I love Toni Collette and I own The Holiday because, hello!, Kate Winslet, Jack Black and Jude Law are in it. But according to “the rules” the actor has to unequivocally make you NOT see the film or show based on their presence in it. There can be no caveats.

So I am posing this question to you, my dear readers: What actor would keep you from seeing a movie or tv show? And conversely (bonus question!): What actor is a yes-must-see-that-film/show because of their mere presence in it?

For me it’s Nick Nolte. Gah! He bugs me! Can anyone even understand what the hell he is staying anyhow? And an actor that propels me to see a movie or show because of her presence in it is Emma Thompson. She’s just a class act and really stellar at embodying her character.

Your turn!

Weekending

September 20, 2010 at 6:45 am | Posted in cohabitation, fun & frolicking, my nephew is awesome | 36 Comments

My weekend looked like this:

I took my Mom to the airport (she went to CA to visit family) and her dog, Oliver, to the office with me for a few hours. I picked up Finn from school for an afternoon of hanging out. When arrived at 12:31 he said to me, “Tee Tee, what took you so long?” Kid, I am ONE MINUTE LATE. Sheesh. He also informed me that he had our day “all planned out” which included taking Oliver to the dog park so they could run around and I could watch. It was raining and we didn’t know where the dog park was but that idea was forgotten when we drove by a toy store. He got me to stop but he did not convince me to buy him a $17 plastic horse. I’ll give the kid credit, he’s got fierce negotiation skills but I am not that easy. We compromised on a $5 horse and some french fries. Then returned to my Mom’s house for PBS tv, games and pillow fights.

I was stuck in traffic driving home that night (Seattleites don’t know how to drive and it’s even worse when it rains which means IT SUCKS ALL THE TIME) so I called Mr. Darcy and had him order Indian food. Side note: whenever we order Indian food the delivery guy catches us in the middle of (cough) something (cough). I don’t know if it’s Indian food that makes us randy or a repeated fluke but it’s happened at least 3 times. Since I arrived home 5 minutes before the food did, this time he didn’t coitus interruptus us. And that’s all the details I will tell you about that. (HI MOM!)

Mr. Darcy went off on a nerd adventure with some of his guy friends to Portland Saturday which left me a free agent. I did what any free agent girl might do- met a friend for breakfast, got a pedicure, shopped at Target, took a two hour yoga workshop, and cleaned the apartment while watching chick flicks. I enjoyed it and our apartment is now super clean and organized. If you ever want inspiration for cleaning your home, watch Hoarders.

Sunday mornings are my time. Mr. Darcy sleeps in, I read, catch up on dvr’d shows, drink tea, maybe make myself muffins or pancakes or something yummy. I head to yoga at 10:30am and don’t return home until after 12:30 while Mr. Darcy sleeps and sleeps or drags himself to Noah’s Bagels (a personal weakness of his). I returned home from yoga yesterday to a very sweaty boyfriend who was vacuuming the building with our crappy vacuum (our good one needs repair). He not only vacuumed but he did the entire list of building chores while I was gone! AND he bought me a bouquet of dahlias at the farmer’s market. Um, I’m pretty sure I hit the boyfriend jackpot with this one.

How was your weekend?

Auto Correct

September 16, 2010 at 7:09 am | Posted in conversations, insert foot in mouth | 16 Comments

So last night I had to battle lame Seattle drivers in the rain to get to a meeting leaving me very little time between the meeting and my yoga class. Since we were at a pub (that’s where I like to hold my meetings because some people are more productive with booze), a coworker and I decided to share some tater tots. This led me to tweet:

“Tater tits are basically hash browns in a different form, right?”

Then immediately realized the typo and said:

“TATER TITS! Ha ha! Thanks auto-correct on my iPhone. That wasn’t the word I was looking for.”

There was a big response to it. Some of the responses to my faux pas that made me chuckle include:

elzbeth: :D!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! and also, ha! I don’t even want to know what you dip those in.

justatitch: Tater TITS? I’ve never tried those…potato boobs sound amazing! ;)

sosaysmegan: Does this mean the iPhone would auto-correct to “Toys for Tits”? How festive!

tenthmuse: Tater Tits is my new drag queen name.

Like I said on Twitter, feel free to use the term “tater tits” inappropriately in conversation.

And Public Service Announcement: Steer clear of tater tits before going to yoga class. The repeats from it while attempting to hold half-handstand or downward facing dog are unpleasant.

Hey, this post COULD have been an imbedded Poo Poll and a discussion of shitcadian* rhythms.  Instead you got burps and tits.

*Shitcadian Rhythm is your poo cycle coined by onenjen’s husband Roth.

Path to Integration

September 15, 2010 at 6:48 am | Posted in health, yoga | 17 Comments

Every time I come to the mat, I try to be all there. This is no small feat for me- a woman who is often caught up in planning for what ifs in the future or mulling over supposed failures of the past. Being here now is a state of mind that I strive to cultivate and yoga helps me do just that. Because when I show up to class and try to hold a difficult pose, it’s not my body that sabotages me from holding it most of the time. It’s my mind.

When we do the dreaded plank pose for one minute, I can feel us building up to it and my mind starts whirling with thoughts, fears, what ifs. Those little seeds of doubt creep in and my mind distracts me from my purpose. When I lower myself into it, I’m already spinning the negativity in my head. I’m not telling myself things like “you can do this!” but instead saying things like “this sucks! you’re so out of shape!”.

And when I do that? I can’t hold the pose for sixty seconds. I have to drop my knees and that failure feeling washes over me. A self-fulfilling prophecy. The rest of class is spent trying to shut off the berating tirade my mind is yelling at me. Thankfully I have a teacher who is good at reminding us that it’s about the process, not perfection. I need to hear that message a thousand times a day.

My yoga practice reinforces this truth: the thing that is most often stopping me from success or from moving forward is, in fact, me. My own negative thoughts. Me being so damn hard on myself. Me not believing in me.

So sure, I’d love to be in great shape and be able to hold plank pose for an entire minute. I’d love to flip myself into an unassisted handstand. But getting there is going to take a lot of self-belief, patience, and trust in the process. The things that come easiest are not the most appreciated. Having something to strive for or improve is not a detriment but a gift.

On so many levels practicing yoga allows me to love myself in a whole new way. I get to feel my body’s own strength. I get the chance to try to quiet the chatter of my mind and focus on one thing only. I get the opportunity to practice being patient and kind to myself. It is more than just exercise. For me, it’s a path to my best self.

Show Time

September 14, 2010 at 7:02 am | Posted in fun & frolicking, musicality | 12 Comments

Thanks to One N Jen’s awesome ticket buying skills we had sixth row seats for the Ray LaMontagne & David Gray show on Sunday.

It looked a little something like this:

He always stands on the right side. Note to concert-goers: don't sit on the far right side if you want to actually see him.

David Gray: A Real Life Bobblehead

I’ve seen Ray LaMontagne before and while he’s quiet – he says “thank you” or “thank you very much” but that’s it, no musician banter or chit-chat with the audience- he pours his soul out through the songs. It was a boot stompin’, chair dancing, rockin’ set. Then David Gray came on with colored lights and a bassist with facial expressions that made me think that was what his “sexy time” face looked like and, well, that was all I could think about whenever I saw him fondling his bass. I was surprised how many David Gray songs I knew. I used to listen to his album White Ladder years ago. It took me back to a time when I was still in my 20′s and depressed. (Man, I’m glad I’m not in that place anymore.) David puts on a really great show- he’s got a ton of energy and really takes over the stage. And yes, he bops his head around like a real life bobblehead or a mix of Joe Cocker and Stevie Wonder.

There were two middle-aged ladies sitting in front of us who were clearly very into David Gray. One lady had her cell phone out the ENTIRE concert. She essentially experienced the show THROUGH the phone. She was calling some people and holding the phone up during a couple of songs. The real kicker though, the part I found fascinating, was that she took video of practically every song. BUT! She would still be swaying her side-to-side chair dance (only one rhythm for this lady) while holding the camera so her video was all wonky. Hell, half the time it wasn’t even aimed at the stage. She moved it around so much I’m pretty sure watching those videos back could be used as a torture device on her enemies. I get taking photos or videos during a show but there’s also a part of me that missing the time before such devices were common and readily available. Like when we went to a show and actually had lighters to hold up instead of the lighter app on our iPhone. Like when we didn’t have a distraction from the show itself- live tweeting it, photo documenting it, recording a garbled version of your favorite song. Are our memories totally digitalized now?

{End old lady rant.}

There’s always that one (or 10) person who has to yell out to the musician, isn’t there? Someone inevitably will cry out, “PLAY FREE BIRD!” Some will chuckle, others will roll their eyes. I don’t really get the yelling out because most of the time the musician can’t hear you or you are annoying other concert-goers. But I suppose people like to be involved. . . and some are just regular old loudmouths. It’s just that people usually yell out stupid stuff. I did that once. I was 13 and at a Richard Marx concert (oh yes, yes I was) at Great America. I mustered up courage and yelled out, “I LOVE YOU RICHARD!” And then he played “Hold Onto the Nights” and I probably got a little teary and swoony.

Look, I wasn’t always cool, okay?

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