Consensus

Does running 7 miles yesterday morning cancel out the fact that I had three candy bars for dinner last night at 1am?

Joe vs. The Volcano

Coming off of my recent 3 month stint dating Mr. Beef Jerky, and having nothing happen with the email guy, I've just recently been on the best date of my life. This guy just did everything right:

1. He called me earlier in the day to confirm and set the time.
2. He picked me up. Not only did he pick me up, but he got himself a cab and took it to my house to get me. I wasn't quite ready, so he made the cab wait and he came upstairs to escort me down.
3. He helped me with my coat. All night. Every on an off he was there.
4. He opened every door.
5. He complimented me without without those lusty tiger eyes that say "I want to rip your clothes off later."
6. He talked about a large variety of topics throughout the night, not all revolving around himself.

So. Joe is an ace when it comes to navigating a lady through nice evening. Unlike Beef Jerky, who over 3 months made me feel special, oh maybe once (but probably pissed me off 10 minutes later), I felt special the whole entire date. And then comes the small problem of... as always in the life of dating... someone (him) is more interested than the other person is (Gertie). There's just something missing; it's not necessarily attraction. I don't know what it is. But he's a very cool guy. So, like a pair of shoes I'm just not sure about, I'll try him on for a while and see if anything fits.

These Are A Few of My Favorite Things

I'l admit I have many favorite things. But the 2 most important are probably my parents.

Today was the most mellow Christmas Eve ever. No siblings, in-laws, friends, no orphans this year - just me hanging out with my folks. Which in theory might be nice.

I was destined however to a myriad of household chores. Like, for exampe, pulling the refrigerator away from the wall to vacuum the floor, walls, and clean the coils. My mom hates nothing more than inefficiency, especially if it costs her. In the interim, I experienced extreme boredom. By late afternoon, my mom was still holding down the kitchen, my dad was finally cleaning out his Roledexes (yes, PLURAL) from the business he dissolved 8 years ago, and I was watching a movie.

The movie wasn't holding my attention and I took a break to check in on the kitchen action. For the first time on a holiday, my mom looked out of sorts. She started bitching about the fact that we were all singularly putzing about, and her eyes welled with tears. She was seeing this Eve as very solitary holiday indeed.

We sat to a wonderful dinner, with a wonderful 1993 Stagsleap wine, and enjoyed the threesome, in the only way perhaps, that a family which has never been just a threesome for the past 34 years could.... and it is hard to describe. Comfortable, familiar, pleasant, and lacking anything new or interesting except the fact that here we were, just the three of us.

And then the burden of The Night of Just Three broke, as some neighbors stopped by. And my mother lit up because she could talk about the meal she just made and knew someone would appreciate it, and my dad lit up as the neighbor talked about upgrading to a flatscreen TV. And everyone had an excellent moment when our family bird, who loves me and my mom and tolerates my father, went to the neighbors shoulder and was quite happy there if she didn't look at him and remind him that he really hates her.

And this is one of my favorite things: to see my parents in their comfort, in their element, in their natural habit of entertaining, in the place where 60+ year old men revert to the topics of 20 year olds and the women continute the time resistent traditionof neighborly gossip and beaming with pride about their children. And I can sit there, at the fireplace, with my back warm and my heart filled completely.

Merry Christmas!

Crazy Mom Makes French Breakfast Plans

Preface: To any French speakers out there - please excuse my absence of proper accents in this post. I know where they should be but I am too lazy to get them accurately placed. My sincere apologies!
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I was speaking with my mom earlier today and she told me she was meeting my dad and some friends at "The Club" (i.e. the yacht club where they are members but don't have a boat - ha!) and she invited me to join them. I declined the invite because I have way too many dvd's to watch and I am a bit of a geek who would prefer to be the geek who DOESN'T spend every Friday night out with her parents (one in a month is acceptable, if they're cool, right?).

At 9:10 PM I get a call from my very tipsty mother...
"Gertz..." Uh-oh, that's what she calls me when she's 2.8 sheets to the wind...
"Yeah, mom?"
"We've got a change of plans."
Uh-oh. Please Dear God Do Not Mean a Change of Plans TONITE.
"Oh yeah?"
"Gertz, there is a French woman here, and she and I are going to come to the City tomorrow and walk..."
Shit. I was already planning on spending 2pm and on Saturday at my folks' house, preparing for the holidays and whatnot. Now my mom was altering the plan.
"Oh yeah?"
"Yeah. Her name is Anne. Here she is."
What????
Anne: "Oui, bonjour?"
Gertie: "Bonjour, Anne. C'est un plaisir de vous rencontrer. Vous allez faire une petite promenade avec ma mere demain a San Francisco, c'est ca? (translation: Nice to meet you. I understand you are doing a walk with my mom in SF tomorrow?"
Anne: "Oui, tout a fait." [Yes, that's correct]
Gertie: "Superbe! [ not.] Et j'ai entendue qu'on va nous nous rencontrer apres pour un petit dejeuner?" [Fantastic! And I understand we'll meet afterward for breakfast?]
Anne: "Oui!"
Great. There go my morning plans. Plus, I don't know if I'm in the mood to meet a 70 year old French woman, no matter what time it is on a Saturday. But then, I tell myself it is better to practice than not to. But then, I think of sitting at a table with my mom who barely speaks a lick of French (how she got the French lady to understand what they will be doing tomorrow morning I will never know) and some 70 year old French lady and I wonder how on earth my mother is going to enjoy listening to Anne and I rattle off En Francais. Because, if I know my mother at all (and I know her to the core), she will ask me at the end of the lunch, if I don't speak French with the French woman "what is wrong with you?! You didn't use your French at all! How are you supposed to remember it if you never use it?" And I also know that we speak French the entire time, my mom will sit there politely in oblivian and afterward say "well, since I made the plans and introduced you and paid for your breakfast, it would have been nice if you included me just a little bit."

Litter Bugger

Yesterday I was walking home and in front of my building, a cabbie was taking a break (in an illegal parking spot), smoking a ciggie and talking on his Bluetooth. I really didn't mind that the cabbie had found a this calm place to have a smoke and catch up with some pals on the phone. What I did mind was that he stood there smoking and chatting with an empty cigarette box at his feet.

I interrupted his invisible conversation on the Bluetooth: "is that your cigarette box?"
Cabbie: "Sorry?" He's so interrupted.
Gertie: "That cigarette box. Is it yours?"
.... from the Cabbie.
As Gertie enters the building: "Because, if it's yours, you should pick it up." And then she goes in. She hopes the pronouncement was loud enough and filled with enough guilt to move the Cabbie to act appropriately.

a few hours later, Gertie left the building to fetch booze for some reason or another (any excuse will do). And you know what? No heinous cigarette package where it had previously been seen. Hmm. So guilt works REALLY REALLY well.

Fully Dressed

Earlier this month I was taking the bus home from downtown. I showed my transfer and boarded the bus. As soon as I looked up for a seat I knew I was in trouble. It was an accordion bus: after a long day, Gertie doesn't want to walk an extra inch. And what the accordion bus is at 8:10pm, is the "half-assed Express." That means that it is the tail end of the express bus, so it DOES make all the stops - - except the last TEN stops. And Gertie gets off somewhere in the TEN. I sat down and awaited my fate: I'd be told the last stop is 8 shorter than where I wanna be, and I'd have to wait for a "non-accordion" regular bus to venture along the route and pick me up.

As predicted, the bus announced its last stop would be North Point and Van Ness. My brain grumbled, but something in my heart screamed "opportunity!"

I didn't understand my heart, but as a human, guess what I did? I followed the heart and not the head. So, instead of waiting for the short bus, or walking the short bus route until I could get on, I walked as close to San Francisco Bay as I could.

It was dark. It was sketchy. My head imagined a wild-eyed cracked up homeless guy jumping me from the dark bushes along the barely-there sidewalk next to one of the fastest streets in the City. My heart, on the other hand, told me to open all my senses. I took out my camera so I could take pictures of the place where I hear my most favorite sound: the clang of ropes and pulleys on the bare masts of sailboats. The Marina.

Things started to look brighter, not for lack of street lights. I was walking behind a big group by the Gaurdsmen Christmas Tree Lot at Ft. Mason. There were two young girls from the families hanging out together, and it reminded me of being 11 years old and fascinated with just about everything. It became apparant that the girls were in a drama class together, as they danced a little number together and sang "...because you're never fully dressed without a smile!" I can't for the life of me remember which musical that song is from, but I know that chorus like I know the red freckle between my left thumb and forefinger.

After the group was out of my path, I was able to focus my concentration and my lens on the sleeping boats under Alcatraz's watchful eye in the middle of the Bay. It was glorious. And then, after being completely refreshed from a long day, with the clang of aspiring masts waiting for their stoic call to duty: epiphany.

I haven't been fully dressed a lot of the time. I let the selfishness of urban life get in the way, and no matter how I doll myself up, if I'm not closing the door of my apartment with a friendly face, well, I'm just not fully dressed.

The funny part is, that evening not too long ago, where I encountered the most sporadic dance ensemble yet, was December 8th. Two little girls, 11 years old, with stork legs and skinny limbs all around changed my outlook. I can't get the chorus of that song out of my head. And when I'm grumpy and in a line somewhere, I sing it to myself. And then I relax.

Because Inquiring Minds Want to Know

OK, my newly discovered male fan club wants an update on the e-mail I wrote last week. Let's just say I'm firing my flirting consultant.

It didn't work. Or, maybe it worked too well and I scared the crap out of him because he had never intended to be floofy or so curious about me. See, Outlook allows you to receive "read receipts" on e-mails you've sent. I have this function on to cover my ass in business, not to spy, but I received a read receipt 10 minutes after sending the message. And I haven't heard back. So there you go.

Tell it Like it is

Last Saturday night I went to Microsoft's holiday party. There weren't as many Bill Gates-types as I anticipated (I only saw one, really). The space was too big for the crowd but the food was delicious and they had really fun stuff to do: foozball, oragami (with an instructor, otherwise...?), henna, temporary tattoos, chocolate sampling and la piece de resistence... having your tea leaves read!

So WR and I waited and waited and waited to get our tea leaves read. Now, WR has always had problems with her ankles, so even if she dolls up she always wears comfortable shoes. Unlike Gertie. Gertie, who had lived in France a while, somehow got brainwashed that a true lady wears 3" heels until she is 68, then she moves down to the 2's. By the time it was my turn, I wasn't really into it anymore.

I was asked to hold the tea cup, close my eyes and think of three things I wanted to know. Duh, who doesn't put down that they want to guage their wealth, love life and health? I already suspect a scam, but it's free so I guess it can't be a scam, and even if it is a scam at least Microsoft is the one paying for it. Wait, did I just ruin my three questions now? Turn the cup three times. Give it back.

The woman with long wavy hair down past her patoushki tossed the tea in an OXO bowl and started to examine the remaining leaves.

"Do you have siblings?"
"Yes, an older brother." She stares curiously into the cup.
"I see you as being very independent as a child. I see tomboy. Were you a tomboy?"
"Yes!" This was maybe not a scam after all.
More curious staring into the cup.
"I see a rift with your mother."
"Uh. In the past? No." Scam.
"Really? I see that you challenged her, but that could mean mentally, like she couldn't keep up with your youthful brain, or that you were rebellious."
I'm perplexed. I was the farthest thing from rebellious as a child. I was 10 minutes past curfew once. Since I think this is a scam, I don't respond because I don't want to give her hints on where to take this. Gertie can be a b*tch sometimes.

I don't remember where she went from there. At some point she asked me if my ex-boyfriend wasn't able to commit. I said, yes, that was the problem although in reality my last beau and I mutually realized we weren't a good fit. There was a lot more curiously staring into the cup, some talk about my past life in a snowy place where my husband worked in the train yard and I journaled about my [ed insert: miserable] life. She said I was good at writing and I liked it, but I'm not sure if she meant now or back then when I was that woman. And then this:

Sudden shock upon looking even deeper into the leaves.
"Is there a child in your household?"
"No."
"Hmm. Someone watches too much TV."

Busted.

WR had a totally different experience. Her tea reader asked her upfront what she wanted to know about, and desparately seeking love, WR asked where the hell was her man. The woman said that probably WR's head was ready for love but her heart was not. I don't think WR liked this answer at all. Then the woman read WR's face, and they stopped looking into the cup and discussed personal paths and psychotherapy, and WR walked away with the contact info of a "good" therapist. Now, WR is one of the sweetest girls on the west coast, but I have always thought she is a little lost. Apparantly so much so that one doesn't need to take a look at the bottom of a teacup to know it.

Drenched

It's been spitting rain today. Better than yesterday - yesterday I got drenched because I thought the rain at 6:45 am would be less spiteful than the rain later that day. I was wrong.

Funny word, drenched. Does it derive from drown? So it means being so overcome by something that, in your full capacity, it is still too much? I think so, but only from life experience.

Don't you hate it when you're home sick from work (because you got drenched in the rain that wasn't worse later in the day than when you were out) and all that is on TV is a variety of types of pseudo-court-tv crap, and all these people tell the Judge: "Your Honor, I had had a vehicle, but he had told me I couldn't have it, 'cuz he had co-signed the loan, but I had told him I didn't want to pay him back, and he had said 'it's fine by me.'"

And then you remember from your English classes that "had + past tense verb" is no so common in modern English communication so, by the third use of this form, you got really pissed off, and then you switched channels and heard a whole other run-through of the same crap? Well, then, I hope you turned it off. Because you were drenched.

But then you lie there, feeling like The Definition of "Sick" in Webster's Dictionary, and wonder what you are going to do with your very fertile mind and very unwillful, ill-feeling body. You think of the items in the house you have which you can read, but realize your arms are too heavy and your will is weak.

The pre-holiday list runs through your head. Your head realizes that, in reality, if you didn't work or have a life, these are very simple, easily conquered things to do. But again, your over-germified body has you beat; you don't possess the stamina, and this list gets added to the "make-up work" list that is already consuming a small portion of your brian.

And again. You are drenched. Happy holidays. L'Chiam!

The E-Mail That Took a Million Hours to Write

A girl like me is lucky to have girlfriends who can officially be called flirting experts. I received an e-mail last night at 5:35pm. It was from a guy I met and hit it off with last Thursday. He didn't ask me out or anything, but there were hints he is interested, so I wanted to make sure that when I wrote back I was also clear. But not psycho-clear.

I am so retarded in the flirting arena that I didn't respond right away. I figured if I thought about it long enough I'd come up with a perfectly cute reply. By the time I went to bed I had run several responses through my head. Nothing good. Up at 6:45, I thought more about it while running. Nothing good. Shower. Nothing good. Finally at 8 am I made a phone call to my flirting consultant. 30 seconds later I finished the goddamn email.

Waiting for the Fix

Mmm. MP3=Love. Especially when running. All the motivational music I want!

But. Then, there's itunes and ipod... and then there's the "other stuff."

Which really sucks, cuz one song I really wanted to buy and download online wasn't avail on my pc-based music program (i.e., Windows Media Player and it's associated Download site, Urge). So I went to itunes and bought that song and the few others I want to put on my running track.

All good, all downloaded. Oops. NOT all good! Itunes won't Convert to play the songs on Windows Media Player. Bastard. How can I make a my dream playlist for running now? How? How? Guess what. I can't.

Study Group. Yuk yuk. Soap Box.

There is an "Iraq Study Group" finally in place to come up with recommendayions for stabilizing the situation in Iraq. I was curious who was included in this elite team:

Former Secretary of State, Former Member of Congress, Former U.S Secretary of State, Former Advisor to President Clinton, Former Attorney General, Associate Justice, U.S. Supreme Court, Former White House Chief of Staff, Former Secretary of Defense, Former Governor of Virginia.

A little surprised that there aren't any scholars who have spent their careers studying the region, its people, etc. But hey, I guess that's just me.

At First I Was Intruiged....

At first, I was indeed intrigued. The Evite announced "A Very Special Evening With Two Couches." Hmm. Ends up, the host had just moved into a new place, and there was not much more furniture than "two couches." My first reaction was "how old are we?" And then I did the math, and thought it impossible, at this age, to move into (1) a room-mate situation, and (2) only have 2 couches as your total sum of communal furniture.

And so I went. Mainly to see the virtual make-up of this modern 30-something clan. That part was weird. I won't digress here, other than to say... office style carpet in a HOME, and well, odd jobs and what-not. The end.

I was told this was a party that started at 7pm. I arrived at 7:45 (casually late, of course). Umm, everyone (all 6 of them) was sitting at the dinner table eating a MAIN COURSE. Whoops, a little too late for the first half, not enough late for the second half. But wait... apparantly, I was the ONLY late one. And, there really wasn't a second half. No other guests coming.

Looking at half-eaten fish carcasses on every plate with a few potatoe skins and some crazy zucchini-tomato mix immediately quelched any hunger I may have had. And, oh to find a chair, and where to place it, and what do drink... all would be nice issues to resolve. Do I want some fish? No, no thank you. Just a beer. Oh, PBR or some home-type brew? PBR please.

The saving grace of this disgraceful incident? I was placed, in a random chair, next to Mark. Yum. Now some talk about him being involved with FEMA. What? He's a fireman? I wouldn't have guessed. But no, he's not a fireman. He is an art director. Yeah! Yeah for Gertie!

A few more PBR's and the awkwardness of intruding on Dinner For Six started to disolve. A little. It was freezing in there. Mark let me use his scarf, because even though the thermostat said 75 degrees, it felt like 58. Mark and I connected, I thought. The dog growled at anyone who didn't resemble his owner.

Anyway, I was 35 mins outside the City, which I don't usually do unless I'm visiting my parents or seeing a guy who has taken me to at least 10 dinners in San Francisco proper, so I got ready to leave. In the car I wished and wished and wished that Mark would leave the party before my car warmed up and he did. And he got in the car and we chatted while the car warmed up (but it never did because I had the air on cool. Woops). Oh well. I also didn't do anything other than give him real estate advice, so he'll probably never contact me. But you know what? The night outside of San Francisco, was indeed a "special evening with two couches."

Despot

Ok, ok. I know I've been a bit remiss. But my statcounter has told me that NOBODY is hangin' in the house AT ALL. Hrmph.

Would it excite you to know that I have FOUND MY FIRST GREY HAIR? On the head, of course, but still. Look at the picture, y'all... it's not from 10 years ago - it's very recent. So what in the name of Whoozit is a grey hair doing on this young head? It was indeed a bit jarring to say the least. I always thought that my first grey hair would come from the insanity of living my fabulous life WHILST raising some fabulous kids who were ultimately the cause of said hair.

But no, it's just genetics and the whole life cycle thing. Which did, quite honestly, throw me for a loop for about 36 hours. I needed to adjust. Then I realized the smallness of the grey hair in the vast world that is offered to me, and I moved on. Of course, I plucked that sucker. THEN I moved on.

Random Access. Random Events.

I have a laptop, but I just can't seem to be in the right place at the perfect time for all the posts I have in my head. By the time I start up the old compu, the thought has fleeted.

Here I recap some random thoughts and visuals from the last couple weeks:

1. Pedestrian encounter. Was walking to meet a girlfriend at a close wine bar and walked past a building with scaffolding and a large, lifelike orange man at the the top of the stairway. Correction: real live orange man. Orange headress, orange face paint, orange robes. Hari Krishna's, eat your heart out - you've met your match!

2. Very non-helpful helpful advice. On the afore-mentioned occasion, my friend was running late. Since I need a "holiday event dress," I stopped in a small women's fashion boutique to peruse the wares.
Me to owner: Hi, I'm looking for a fabulous dress for a New Year's Eve wedding. What is the trend this year?
Eastern European Older Gent Owner: Brown is very fashionanable right now. Also, black. Also, this very blue blue. And green, not army green but more like a Christmas green. Red, of course, and...

So basically he named every color in the rainbow and more. Thanks. Very helpful.

3. Score New Client. High End. 'Nuf said.

4. Cute kid scene/Pedestrian encounter. For once after a year of living in my new neighborhood, I walk down Lombard Street ("The Busy Street"), which is on this occasion the most express. It is lined with motels. As I pass the last one, there is a Chinese grandmother outside the "lobby" holding her grandson up to the glass. He is trying to touch the Christmas lights on the inside. The grandmother's face is brimming over with joy. So is the toddler's. As I walk past, I see that the toddler's joy comes from looking at his mother's reaction while she is inside the lobby, taking care of his younger sister, who has some crazy medical-related helmut on her head. I wonder if they are in San Francisco to see a top notch doctor. Then, I don't care. The little girl is oblivious to any sort of condition, and the family is beaming with family togetherness, whether they feel it pouring over me or not.

5. 12 Hour Work Days x 3. Grmph but thanks to the "positive life" books, feeling accomplished.

6. Pedestrian Encounter. After work on Sunday I was fired up and went on a run to tackle the Lyon Street Steps. Four blocks all up a stair set that varies on height and distance level. The downside: it's grueling. The upside: you feel rad afterwards. Especially if you run all four levels twice. Even more if you pass an UBER HOT man several times through the process, and he smiles at you. Smiles at you! Dude! What are you doing to me not bothering me while I am running with headphones on so I appear quadrupally unavoidable? Talk to me. Bump into me. Hell, shove me down the stairs. Now I have to check Craigslist for a missed connection for the next several days.

7. Obligatory Parental Time. There are always pro's and con's to living so close to your parents. Luckily for me, the pro's outweigh the con's all day and all night. I have fantastic parents. They may very well be too good. This past Saturday I had a "girl day" with my mom. In this small big city, as we ventured near and far throughout it's 7x7 sq miles, I ran into 3 people I know. My mom thinks I'm famous. For what, I don't know.

I love spending time with my mom. She's goofy. She's sensitive. She's sincere. She'd give me the shirt off her back and her socks that have holes in them because she's already saving to give me something else. She'd give me her retirement money if she felt I needed it. On this day, we went shopping together for a dress for me to wear to a wedding. She has some very strong opinions about dresses, but she doesn't dress too well herself so sometimes I wonder. The green dress I loved she agreed looked fantastic on me.

Mom: It's very flattering.
Me: Yeah, out of all the dresses so far, my butt looks best in this one.
Mom: It would be great... if you were going on a cruise.
Me: Wouldn't it be great if I were going to a wedding?
Mom: No. That's a cruise dress.
Me: Really? You think so?
Mom. That's a great dress for a cruise; why do you think it's on sale?

We settled on a black, halter top, Marilyn Monroe-type dress. To my mother's glee, the dress was on sale.

8. Pest infestation. Last night I met the Kamakazi Mosquito. Not your normal mosquito... instead he's one who doesn't mind dry, cold temperatures and doesn't waste time ho-humming in your ear. Instead, he is a huge, loud monster that comes screaming by ready to suck your blood and make you suffer. I didn't even think he was a mosquito, until I had 3 bites on my arm in 1:45 flat. I opened the window to freeze down the barracks and hunkered down under the faux-feather duvet. I woke up at 3:30 am sweating like a Scandanavian in a Swedish sauna. I lost several pounds last night, I'm sure of it. Man, those faux-feather comforters really work!

That son-of-a-bitch Kamakazi Mosquito is so obsessed with me that he came into the shower. Bad choice, Kamakazi-san. I kill you with water. Ha!

Later that morning while rinsing the coffee caraffe I noticed a few ants scrummaging around my relatively messy kitchen counter. I killed them with Clorox-infused cleaner. I removed everything from the counter and turned "relatively messy" into "impeccably sterile." I went to work. Upon return, an infantry of ants ignored the previous kills and were coming down the frame of my kitchen window to settle on a few crumbs in the sink. Clorox again. The battle with the pests seems to be won.

9. Party preparation. I am in charge of hors d'oeuvres for a party Monday night. After hours of online, familial and friend referencing, I settled on two appies: endive leaves stuffed with lemon-pepper-infused goat cheese topped with fresh chives and artichoke-parmesian crudites.

I went to the store and they only had 3 endives left. I asked the produce guy if the weak-looking endives would "produce" a tray of stuffed endives. He was honest and said "come back tomorrow morning." F**K that. I changed to baby red peppers stuffed with goat cheese. Out of goat cheese. What the hell kind of grocery store do you call this? I found one packet of goat cheese which I hope is enough. If not, I'll cut the peppers to fit. My Lord; when did making hors d'oeuvres get so hard?

Thanksgiving and Other Things - I Always Seem to be the White Meat

SIDE NOTE: The first portion of this post is completely bizarre and unassociated to Thanksgiving Day… sort of:

For the past 8 years or so people [whom I know, thank God] can't help but spank my rear on occasion, like at bachelorette parties, or when I'm in a grocery store on the phone, or when I lean over to talk to someone. Or Thanksgiving Day. Yes; I said spank. It lends itself, unfortunately. I’m so used to it by now that I don't really react except for a look and a roll of the eyes. Unless I'm drunk, then who knows what I'll do.

One Halloween a few years ago, a colleague of mine recognized me in my costume at a street fair - from behind. And I had a big platinum hillbilly Dolly Parton wig on! And! I wasn’t even wearing the company jeans! She recognized my butt. Take that, J-Lo.

This Thanksgiving, I got spanked again. Twice. I’m tired of getting the old hand to the caboose. Seriously folks, can we look past the physical for a bit? I’m really, really tired of being a piece of ass meat.

THE REAL THANKSGIVING RECAP IS HERE.

Thanksgiving Day overall was a very good day. I woke up at 8:30 because Clickity Clack upstairs was away for the holiday so I got to sleep in. I went for a 4 mile run. Came back and found out my best friend (and Thanksgiving guest at my ‘rents’ place) had no hot water in her apartment and wanted to bail on Phase One of The Day, which was to visit my colleague’s house for a quick drink and appies.

As I have often come into the path of my best friend’s “universe denies my partaking in the occasion I already agreed to partake in” scenario, I didn’t fully believe that THE BOILER BLEW in her building, and went into a slight depressive mode. Seeing how I’ve been using some books to influence my positivity in life lately, I couldn’t fully believe it but I really wanted to.

I didn’t call her back right away; instead I went for coffee, relaxed, breathed, dealt internally with my issues, breathed again and then called. We created a mutual agreement on timing, as my parents were dealing with an electrical blackout and most likely needed all hands on deck [ed note: turkey OK! We do it on the bbq here in California] and decided we could complete Phase One and still be on time for Phase Two (being at my folks’ house before the rest of their guests).

Phase One was awesome and enjoyable. Special house cocktail was Guiness with sparkling wine. Believe it or not: very good. On the way back to the car my friend complimented me on my recent fitness campaign then spanked my butt for acknowledgement. Geez. Pleez.

Onto Phase Two, where, after several emergency last minute smokes in the car before the drought of not smoking at my parents’ house, we anticipated a disaster because of the electrical malfunction. No such misfortune. They were done cooking everything and the turkey was resting! Unbelievable! The only calamity is my mom wasn’t dressed yet.

The guests arrived, much wine was consumed, a photo journal of my parents’ most recent int’l journey was reviewed. I changed into jeans. I got spanked again. Damn-it! If it was a boyfriend I wouldn’t be so uptight about it.

We all got the leftovers and left woozy but not drunk. We said our goodbyes with hugs, etc. and now I smell like one of the guests’ horrendous perfume. It outsmells my own, outsmells the one my best friend and I put on in the car to cover up our smoking, and outsmells anything otherwise not covered. It stinks; I can’t get rid of it.

I got home and watched the end of Grey’s Anatomy in my p.j.’s at my own place in peace and calm quiet. I will dream of the stuffing, turkey and gravy all night till I can eat it for breakfast and run it off after lunch. YUM!

Check Status

I don't know if you all know about Statcounter, but it's the bomb for checking all glories that come to your blog (er, yeah, which is why I know for a FACT that there aren't many more than a handful of you, but whatevs).

Anywho, um, there's one very comedic statistic that is listed for each recorded "project" [ed note: yes, I am a PROJECT], and that is the category of ............ Keyword Analysis! Yes, that's right, folks! This fun fun post will list the Top 10 Recent keywords that have lead you dear readers to this most thankful blog. Please note that I am only listing the searches that ended up here; I have no idea where in the blog they landed, nor wherefore (er, that's Shakespearean for WHY WHY WHY ME GOD???):

1. Boyfriend doesn't smoke
2. Selfish parking (ok, I know where this one went)
3. Sis in Law Bathing (what????)
4. Second of all (geez, I must say that a lot)
5. Thumbsucker liquid (ha ha ha!)
6. Stung boob (I know where this one went, too)
7. 2006 Bush speaches (ok, I know where this went, but I'm too ashamed to link it)
8. Partyclub in Jamaika
9. Step into the mystic song (man, you are worse than me at lyrics, dude. No wonder you couldn't find it.)
10. Jewish guy face plant (ha ha ha. I really wish I had that story to tell!)

So that's the most recent 10. Isn't it fun?

Where? When?

Not only do I admit to being funny sometimes, I will also admit that I am a Flickr addict. I have a Flickr account, but I also have certain other members that I watch like a hawk - with the determination of someone who has a new puppy. I click often, I refresh. But most decidedly, I am obsessed with my own photos... particularly how often they are viewed.

See, Flickr lets you know how many times each photo you post online has been viewed by the world. This can be very flattering or very deflating. I posted a photo on October 17th and it has only been viewed once (er, by Gertie herself) so I deleted it. No sense in keeping what the WORLD says is an uninteresting photo around for other people to confirm its uninterestingness, so I say.

But here's the strange thing, and it really makes the non-technological Gertie think she is extremely ahead of the pack here.... sometimes a photo goes from 14 views to 77 views overnight. OVER. NIGHT. Or, it goes from 23 views one day to 55 views 3 weeks later, and THEN from 55 to 77 in mere hours. HOURS! Even though the photos I have online are COPYRIGHTED - yes, I'm no idiot (and thank you to the one online journal who wanted to use one of my shots for asking before publishing rights).... but I can only assume that someone talking about something searched tags on Flickr and came to a few, proud, innocent Gertie shots and has used them SOMEWHERE without PERMISSION in a public setting!! Is all propriety lost? How else can one account for such assanine hikes in views? Seriously.

And here's where Gertie is thinking ahead of the pack... in my curiosity, I was assured in my head that whomever referenced my photo did so online... so I did a Google Image search hoping to find the title of my images somewhere other than on my Flickr account. No such luck. BUT! DEE DEE DEEEEEEE! Wouldn't it be awesome to be able to TRACK an image that has LEFT an online photo sharing site! Hoo Ha! Lemme tell ya, my Ex Tech BF had all sorts of tricks up his sleeve to find out who had been where for how long, where they came from and where they went after, and I think this would be a phenomenal boon to the online photosharing society [Dawn, please note date and time of pronouncement, as if any such tool comes into fruition in the future I will certainly need an attorney to proclaim my patent-like rights].

Damn. I can't wait for my current career to provide me the funds for all the real shit I'm gonna bring to this world. Hoo ha!

And 3 Lbs. More - 3 Lbs. Live Blogging

Preface: I will be the first to admit that I think I am funny. Sometimes I think this and I am actually NOT funny. But lemme tell you... this post I just wrote had me laughing out loud... almost thought I didn't write it for a moment... so please, skim or whatever, but I assure you, you'll enjoy it even if you haven't watched the show...

[Note, this is my first attempt at live TV blogging, and I'm already woozy. And, I'm watching a movie during commercials. Right, and baking banana bread.]

OK, so far on tonite's episode of 3 Lbs., we venture into the concept of the Left and Right sides of the brain. Oh, and "mind control;" i.e., manipulation of another's mind. Oh, and when and when not to use a cell phone in a hospital. Man, this is going to be difficult. I'm such a serial notetaker....

GSW: Gun Shot Wound by illegal guy. Illegal guy has shot himself in the head amidst other things [ed note: stupid]. Wait! There's something MORE intriguing in his brain than a bullet! A subdermal hematoma, oh no. And I guess there is an important other guy as a victim.

Pheromones. Mating. To resist is futile. Whoa. Now people strangers are having sex. What's going on?

A pregnant woman has had a seizure. Never had'em before, so what up? Well, whatevs, the Dox decide she needs one-sided brain surgery and now is doing stuff she has no control over. Like zipping up her sweater. Oooooh, that's horrible! Girl's make-up is too dark for her skin [oh! sorry! that's the movie...]

Kiss kiss, bad big hair. We had sex, does anybody care? Pheromones don't! But maybe a particular lawyer for a particular victim of a particular crime got some medical info no one was supposed to know...

The Indian Doc chick wants to know what the double brained lady is actually doing w/her right brain. So she does some tests and finds out that the right brain hates the impending baby. Poor baby. Baby definitely likes left brain better.

Back to sex. Lawyer woman, trying to deceive the Doc w/the whole pheromone thing while taking advantage for her client as well. Wow, I don't think I'd retain her over Dawn. But Dawn better not tell the tales she does on her site or we're all in trouble.

Double brained chick can't do anything on the left side (meaning right). Ha ha. Right. Oh, ok, some side of the brain is telling her to choose her baby over her life. Yikes. That sucks. Baby doesn't know who to like now. Baby very confused because Baby is inside the womb and can't see which side is right or left, or which it prefers. I'm guessing at the end of the day, Baby will go with whatever side is LIFE. Uh, wouldn't you? Duh. [ed note: most of this was discussed inside the Gertie's head, and not in the actual episode. Oh my God, I am cracking myself up right now.]

Scrubbing in; for what I don't know. But apparantly it was an interlude to some deeper discussion of the characters thus so far discussed so I should never have typed any of this. Oh well.

Right brain is apparantly "over-rated" in double brained lady (uh, need I mention here that all of us are double brained? No? OK). One hemisphere is now the boss of her. But! Both sides share emotions. Doi? Talk about leaving the choice to the patient...

In the victim of GSW Guy, a blood clot pushing on his lobe. Lawyer used the Doc to get an answer [with her pheromones, not her brain, of course]. Doc is in big trouble. By the way, I have noticed this episode that Espresso is the new black apparantly; everyone is wearing CHOCOLATE. [Switch focus.] Seeing drowning ghost girl from first episode. Dear God, will Doug Doc's conscience come into EVERY episode??

Contemplation [in espresso colored room - told you]. Brown suit. See theme. Too lazy to actually hear what they are discussing. My RIGHT arm is itchy (must mean my left brain is pissed). So in reality, I shouldn't have typed any of this, either. Sigh.

Oh stop, everybody, stop! You're believing things that are implied! Or! Vice versa! Or! Even better - - chocolate!! Espresso! The new black! Everybody think cho-co-lad-e and all is grand....

Except. You might not be able to speak;what? Oh, double brain is out of surgery, and everyone is wondering if she has a viable baby and if she can speak. She has a viable baby and can flail her arms. That's kind of happy and sad, really. Appealing to both sides of my brain, if I must admit.

[insert: poor little kids in the movie]

Bullet out. All good. Who's the GSW again? Uh oh. Dream scape with ghost girl. Rip artery in GSW. What does this have to do w/GSW's brain again? Oh right. Nothing. It has to do with the Doc's state of mind. Ooh, mind! Brain! Illusion! 3 Lbs! Wait, now we're back to the double brained mute, who was mutilated in the head and now she also cannot move. But don't forget! She has a viable baby.

GSW is a prisoner, but he's thankful and speaking. Could he perhaps, have traded brains w/another patient? HMMMM. creepy. Who cares? We've seen him for 2.5 minutes in a 60 minute show. Whatevs.

Double sided brain chick is MOVING. Woo hoo. BUT... can she talk? Well, I don't know, because I had to take the damned banana bread out of the oven. Oh well, at least she has a viable baby.

Hey! You know what? That was totally fun. For both sides of my brain.

"Priceless..."

Going to an Italian wine tasting with your father? Priceless. (AND - awesome wine, grazie!)

Going immediately after to a crab-a-thon at your office? Additionally Priceless.

Having cheap American wine and that lingering garlic breath and crab-smelling-y fingers (not to mention the crab-o-lisious-smelling conference room...) for, uh, how long after? Deliciously disgusting.

Inquiring Minds

Yes, I look for entertainment in the oddest of places... this was a Craigslist posting
"Do you suffer from any of the following symptom:

Bad Breath
Athlete's Foot
Gingivitis
Sweaty Palms
Chronic Shoe Odor
Dry Skin
Toenail Fungus
Itchy Red Eyes?"

If so, they’d like to get you together with a bunch of other people who have the same problems symptoms, and talk about them! Even better, they’ll pay you $100. I'm sorry, if you're not my doctor, my date, or my shoe, I won't be discussing any of these.

3 Lbs. - I get it already

Apparantly, every network has to have a medical show, thus CBS has launched 3 Lbs. Ok. After a few minutes, I got it already.

The show is less medical and more mind game (yes, Gertie puns!), as the focus of the show is a neurology department, and all they do outside of brain surgery and sexual innuendos is talk about the mutually inclusive complexity (self-inflicted emotions) and simplicity ("wires in a box") of the human brain and review all the arguments about science vs. soul/spirituality. Interesting for a show or two, enough material to go on forever, but ultimately one must ask how long they can stand to listen. If you are like me and don't have cable, TiVo, or Netflix, this is the best you are going to get on a Tuesday night. But, there aren't a lot of people out there like me.

Blue Skies

The skies were dry when I woke up. On the foot path I run by the bay the small puddles reflected the rising sun and two pelicans flew slow and low along the orange glassy water of the bird sanctuary. After reaching the Warming Hut and blowing my usual kiss to the Golden Gate Bridge, I couldn't decide if the run back toward the skyline was more incredibly beautiful than the run out. The hazy morning yellow of the unequivocal skyline, the tempestuous little waves smacking the shore, the blackened silhouette of a stoic egret against the brightly awakening city.

And people think I'm crazy to get up early to run.

Go Away, Rain

We're having our first official rain of the season. We've had some rain in the past, but this one has been all green and yellow blobs on the news forecasts - blobs that aren't going away anytime soon.

Although I've fallen a bit off my early-to-bed, early-to-rise routine, and I've also taken a running break since the half marathon, tomorrow morning will be my first morning run... in the rain. Not really looking forward to it, but thinking about what possible outfit will allow me ease of limb use and proper water resistance. I am most happy to have received a free running hat as a promo for the last race, because getting pelted in the face at 6:45 am doesn't sound the least bit appetizing. Nor does soggy socks and an oversized windbreaker with a blinking light on it, but hey - you gotta look bad to look good, right?

On that note, I just received the 3 "professional" photos of me running my half marathon. No wonder I never meet guys while I'm running. Note to self: that face I give when I'm very focused and determined ends up looking like I have really bad gas. Stop focusing.

I Had A Dream...

Last night I had a dream, of which I don't remember the magority, but I do remember one very poignant part.

I do remember the part where I was in a movie theater, or rather, one of those stadium-style college classes, you know the kind - where you and 449 other students are obligated to listening to a drone on the stage, and I was in the front row. I was talking incessantly to the gay guy next to me. He rolled his eyes at one point, and, apparantly speaking to the instructor on stage said, "SHE has got the worst breath ever!"

In the dream, I cowered deep into my theater chair, very embarrassed about my breath. In real life, I woke up at 4:12 am with a severe pain in my left jaw. I started freaking out that I needed a root canal, and then let the fear subside into a resolution to no longer eat frozen chocolate chips and then go to bed without brushing my teeth... all in fear of having a second root canal.

So this morning I woke up and FLOSSED. Yes, I flossed. Can you believe it?

Last Woman Standing - Two Nights in a Row!

Yup, you guessed it. Gertie is bored again. I already did my "day;" not to mention the 5 journals/magazines/local publications I read through. And then another bit of another book. I never thought I'd say it, but I'm getting tired of reading. Luckily tomorrow is Excercise Day and a Work Day. Woo. Hoo. When are my girls gonna get dumped so I have stuff to do??

OK. That was a little selfish. Well, maybe a lot. Whatevs! I don't want my girls to get dumped. Ever. Cuz my girls are super cool (even though they don't read my blog).

Last Woman Standing

Now that I've dumped Beef Jerkey, I'm free on a Friday night! Only problem is, all my girls are in still in their relationships. Bummer. I'm totally bored.

What the...? Part II

I guess I've titled something "What the...?" before. To be honest, it is so tedious to search archives with Blogger that I don't have the patience or interest to figure out what I was so confused about prior to this. The "this" now being the new Blogger Beta, which is supposed to be an improved Blogger.

It's still no WordPress, which I would prefer to have but, hey, Blogger is free and WordPress is not. So, Blogger it is.

And Blogger has a new version! I was so excited to hear that when I logged in! And then, in order to get all beta'd, I had to do a few (yes, TEDIOUS) things. Like pick a new template. [As you can see, my new template is my old template - only I painted it a little shade of blue. Gertie is SO artistic!] Then I was able to add a "signature" photo (which, aparantly, I could have done before, but it's easier now). I will probably regret it, but I updated AN ACTUAL PICTURE of me (most likely soon to be replaced by just some undetectable BODY PART of me). There are a few other things I can add now, but to be honest, they seem boring and I am too lazy and uninterested to figure out if they would be cool additions to my post. Finally, with keeping with my Template, they changed the way my old posts show up (read: made my previous posts look like a boring historical timeline), so I made the utmost attempt to make them look interesting... to no avail. How the hell is anyone gonna wanna see my prev posts if they are all a Star Trek Star Date Time Log? Well, I might at least get some Trekkies on board.

OK. Done ranting on the new beta Blogger. Thanks for listening. More interesting stuff to come, but how would you know, since they are all archived by date? Hrrmph.

Official Results

This morning I ran the US Half Marathon here in San Francisco. About this time last year I ran the Nike Women's Half Marathon, and finished it in 02:13:47. I could barely move the remainder of the day. I think I was horizontal for most of it. Needless to say, it was a brutal initiation to real racing (unlike the 12k Bay to Breakers, which most people do drunk and in costume).

This year, the Nike Women's Half Marathon was sold out in 2 weeks. So the next race was the one I did today, the US Half. I trained with the Nike group, and I trained a lot more than last year, and here are the results!

Official finish time: 02:02:24
Fastest mile: mile 1 - 8:36 mins
Average min/mile: 9.31
Age group place: 70th
Overall place: 274th
Total runners: 3,000 (I was in the top 10%!)
Hrs laying horizontal afterward - only 1 hour!

Gertie sore, but Gertie happy : )

Boo

I hate Halloween. Always have. My parents are out of the country so I've been staying at their house watching the PET. Having to be here to hand out candy has been a nice excuse not to go to Halloween parties, or the ever-famous Castro Street, or any other SF Halloween-bizarro event.

The conversation of the night:

Ding Dong. I go to the door.
The next door neighbors' kid and 2 of his 7 year-old pals are there. I wait a moment for Those Words. They don't come. No kids say trick or treat anymore!
Me: "Wow! Look at YOU guys!"
One of the Kids: "Your parents are in Madagascar?"
Me: "No, they're in Casablanca."
OOTK: " What's Casablanca?"
Me: " You'll find out when a girl makes you watch the movie."

How Greens and Dems Listen to Bush Speaches - They Talk About Dating, Dining, and Dating.

So, I wake up this morning to a droning traffic report from some area into the City, and I don't care cuz I'm in the City already and I'm darned tired, so I set snooze for 6 minutes.

The alarm goes off again... droning from another area into the City... should get up and run... hit snooze for 12 minutes.

Alarm goes of again (and again, and again!) and it is this annoying, incessant and stupid sound, kind of like a mosquito in my ear... oh, crap, it's the 'Prez speaching. Bleck. Turn off alarm and get up. Start getting ready for my meeting since I snoozed through a run. That's what the Green does. There, I said it. I'm Green, and have been for years (go fig, Cali Girl Gertie is All About Trees and Stuff - hey - Save Trestles! and all that jazz).

Greens and Dems Part 1

Not more than 2 minutes into my getting ready, my phone rings. It's 8:15am. "Grandma's dead!" I instantly assume, cuz why the hell else does someone call that early? Oh yeah, it's just a Democrat, who's morning walk with the radio got interrupted with 156 channels of Bush pontificating like a mosquito in the ear.

Gertie: Good morning, Mom.
Mom: I was walking, and then Bush came on, so I took my headphones off, and I thought of a GREAT PLAN for how to confirm your cooking over dinner date with New Guy!
Gertie: You did, huh, surprise.
Mom: Yes, first of all, when you're confirming he will actually show up, don't say "you'll be disappointed" if he doesn't.
Gertie: Mom, trust me. I would never use the word "disappointed" with a man, I'm not that stupid.
Mom: Well, you told me you'd be disappointed if he doesn't keep the date.
Gertie: Right, I will. But you should know that I'm very well schooled in "Men are From Mars, Women are From Venus..."
Mom: I've never heard of that book
Gertie: ...and I've also read "Mars and Venus on a Date," "The Rules," and "He's Just Not That Into You," etc., etc., etc. So believe me, what I say to you is by no means literal to what I will say to him. What I'm telling you is Woman to Woman.
(Somewhere inside, my mom gets excited about the fact that we speak woman-to-woman, but she doesn't say it. It's the .2 second pause between her unstoppable conversing that indicates this joy. Correction: overjoyment. Or whatever.)
Mom: So I bought a book to bring to your Nephew....

There was way more to the conversation, including some menu and meal prep tips, which I didn't hang too heavily on since I'm not sure the "having dinner at Gertie's" date is actually going to happen Thursday. Since I'm sparing myself from over-anticipation, I'll spare you, too.

Greens and Dems Part 2

This is the e-mail subject line I received from my Dem Best Friend at 9:15 (was Bush was still talking or were people just talking about Bush talking?): "Major JUNK FOOD consumption alert." This e-mail contained a long list of crap my friend and soon bride-to-be had thus far consumed during the day (which apparantly had only started 15 minutes ago), then finally curtailed, after a diatribe of side-splitting laughables, to ask me to confirm a certain restaurant was "still good" so she and her fiance could dine there tonight. I replied I had last been there when our local Fox anchorman had no grey hairs, and recommended instead the newer place down the street.

Best Friend: YEah? Why do you like Houston's? From the outside, it always reminded me of a post frat Taylor's [in Boulder, CO] with steak? But it's okay?
Gertie: Your description of Houstons is spot on. However, you have to remember that I am a little more ON the beaten path than you are... I actually like places that give me the opportunity to meet people of a [educational/career] caliber which I would like in a mate. Unfortunately, a lot of these places also offer the post-collegic riff raff that you and I love to abhor. It's the sorting that I have to do, and don't mind doing, that is no longer in your to-do list, that may inhibit you from further investigation of such places.
---
So you see? There were a couple of people today who weren't listening. Charlie Brown's Teachers, that's what it sounds like, and for some of us, it's enough annoyance to turn it off. And tonight at dinner with some friends, I was surprised to hear about an upcoming Supreme Court ruling on abortion. Wha? With all this "Foley is a Gay Previously Molested Pedophile!" crap I didn't hear BOO about an abortion ruling. Geez. If people would just ever ask me anything, like say, "hey, you worked for corporate Gap, do you think this guy Foley is gay?" then we wouldn't have these issues taking our precious newshour time. Because if someone woulda just asked me, I could've told you in a Gap Second that YES, he's friggin' gay. Obvious and of little importance considering NO ONE is talking about what the Supreme Court is changing about abortion rights. Which, by the way, I would link to here, except I am totally unaware. And a little bit frightened about, to be honest.

Beef Jerky

He's such an asshole, er, jerk, er both. Ugh. Opposable thumbs, we should have stopped at opposable thumbs. This man is driving me crazy.

I told you before that my mom loves this guy, but OH, if she knew, if she knew how he so easily ruffles my feathers, ooh! OK, you're right. She'd say I'm taking everything absolutely too seriously. And she's probably right. That ass. Stupid ass. To think how many times I've wanted to... uh. OK. We'll leave it at he's a stupid ass.

But it would be nice if Beef Jerky would stop being such a jerk and make me feel special once in a while.

Love,
Gertie

Tags:

• life
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• it

Loose Change

For some reason it feels like forever since I've posted anything. Maybe that's because in early August I decided to start leading life by the reigns instead of letting it pull me hither and nither. And so, for the past few months, I've been trying to pick up, organize, and be productive. What I did was eliminate (in half-assed sorta way) effectiveless use of time, and for some reason, staying up till 2a having a few drinks chez moi and pontificating ridiculous thoughts on a blog seemed a perfect thing to eradicate from the routine.

I miss giving some dish, or comments or insights, despite my frequent lapses of judgement for which I regret sharing some outbursts here, and I've found that writing is an important aspect of being a productive person. It clears the pipes, organizes loose change, and let's me rest my brain when my head actually hits the pillow.

The challenge now is to find the time. Since I don't stay up till 2 anymore, it's not as easy to fit in. I've often wished for something that you can just plug into the side of your head and it would translate the thoughts onto a harddrive for editing later. I especially need this now as most of my free-flow thinking time is when I run in the morning. Hey when is iPod gonna add this feature? Then I'll definitely buy one.

The "New Gertie" comes and goes these days. It's pretty hard to make a dramatic life change and stick with it. I'm not getting up at 6:15 anymore, because I'm a big baby and I don't want to run in the dark. Or work before it's light. But I'm still running 2 work mornings a week and the long distance runs on Saturdays. This past Saturday I decided to run over the Golden Gate Bridge and back. I love the Golden Gate Bridge. Something about it's quiet stoicism, I guess.

Another area that has been quiet the past week or so has been work. After a huge rush of activity for 3 straight weeks, I've only got one client right now, and stomping the pavement to drum up new business just plain sucks when nothing comes of it. It gets hard to keep it up. The Bloomingdales and its "premier" mall just opened, and it takes a lot of things on the to-do list to keep me from playing hooky one day to look at stuff I can't afford.

Hey did Gertie tell you she met a guy? Well, I'm still playing this one out. Tough call on this guy, who has met my parents but none of my [close] friends. I have heard him referred to [from my not close friends] as "a dickhead" and "an ass." I concur that he can be these things sometimes, I've seen it in action. Mom is gaga over him. When she met him she pulled me aside...
Mom: I like him, you can just tell he's a good man.
Gertie: You're just sensing the Tribe Vibe, Mom.
Mom: The what?
Gertie: The Tribe Vibe... he's Jewish.
Which probably gave an additional little warm spot to him in her heart. Before the Jewish holiday she suggested I bake him a honey cake. I said "if he ever decides to call me then maybe I would." Basically, I have never been so pulled around by someone I'm dating before. I cannot tell you how many times my best friend has heard "it's over!" and "he called!" in the past six weeks. Ridiculous. Nature should have just stopped with the opposable thumb - it'd be easier on us all.

And that's the weekend update, folks.

I Kill Myself With My Own Humor - er, maybe not.

Oh, you, dear Reader, have always wondered, I'm sure, what it is to be me. Yes. Yes. A crazy, fear-filled inquisition, to be sure. So, if you want to know what it is to be me, and be me at 12:33pm after 3 16-hour work days, in my goofy goof goof state of mind, well... here it is:

This is taken from a self-appropriated e-mail just minutes ago, an e-mail which I unsolicitatatiously (er, Dawn? Help me out here with the legal?) delivered to a fine friend who happens to be "challenging herself" to learn Chinese (with absolutely no significance to her blonde WASP-y - slash - Catholic-y lineage, and purely for her own "mental entertainment"): woops. What's going on here? I'm feeling some CENSORSHIP in the blog-o-sphere - I'm getting a link when I try to post the text. OK. Re-arrange. Sorry folks, for the minor interruption. Actually, it's more than an interruption... it's a censorship block!

OK. Maybe this is a Big Sign. A Big Sign that I shouldn't be pushing any envelopes right now, like I normally do. I get it. I get it! I KNOW Rosh Shashana is Friday! I Know! OK! Relax, G-man, relax. Breathe. But you have to admit... the " chi chiii choo chung ha ha ho nim fao suk " part [of the original text] was really funny!

Ok then, ok. Yes, yes, Big G, I am going about thinking about my sins of the year, and my pure-hearted goals of next year. Yes, I am observing , thanks for asking. The only problem this year is that Yom Kippur falls on a training day, 12 miles in fact, and I think it will be a bit difficult to run 12 miles and not eat till Sunset. But yes, Sir, that's the plan, and all the time refreshing for a new year, yes, it looks to be a delightful new year, I'm very excited, except for the Yom Kippur part where I run 12 miles and then have to not eat until sundown. No, I'm not complaining at all, no; I'm simply saying it will be a true test for both my body and spirit - and yes, that's what it's all about , I suppose. Right, no, I'm not forgetting being a good person with that, of course not. I don't like to "brag" in front of others so let's just keep my good (and my bad /improvement areas) to Ourselves here and work it out next year. Good plan, Sir, er G-man, er? Yeah, great. Thanks. Yes, I know I need to work on my elegance at every level. Right, well, I'd like to blame it on my older brother and his influence on my tomboy-ish-ness, but that would be passing the buck, now, wouldn't it?

OK, then. Who else is tired of my free-flowing discussion with the G-O-D? Me too. Buone notte a tutti!

Bruised But Not Broken

Interesting how that title can refer to so many aspects of life. Unfortunatley for you, Reader, it only has to do with me running. Me running with a dog on a leash.

Jake. Jake Jake Jake! That damn sweet adorable Labrador Retriever with the fuzzy golden face that absolutely glows with delight and is full of all of the best intentions to love one could possibly have in the world. Who could get mad at that face, that excitement, that pure pleasure of being out and about?! I can.

Yesterday I took Jake running with me [again]. He's such a great companion. Most of the time. For a 3 year old (i.e., teenager) Lab, he's really well behaved. Except when you bring him outside. No specific outside... ANY form of outside.

I bought him a lovely designer leather (fake LV) choke collar the third day I was watching him. Because, yes, not only is he a beautiful Labrador but he is also a bit on his teenager-over-the-top-exctited side, so I needed something hip to reign him in, and it had to look hella good like a kick ass dog should. Reign him in I did! He was so mallable! I was so proud! Good boy, Jake!

Good boy until yesterday, that is. Because yesterday we went for a morning 5 mile run, which was only as enjoyable as running can be when you have to look out for some creature else who is so wrapped up in their own excitement that THEY FORGET THEY ARE ATTACHED TO YOU BY A MERE ROPE. So, 2 plus miles in we have passed the footpath and are running on the sidewalk on a most distinguishly expensive road in a most distinguishly expensive locale in Northern California, when good 'ole Jake gets ahead of himself, and ahead of his Master (i.e. ME) and TRIPS ME. And there I am, in my distinguished stride on a distinguished street in a most distinguishly expensive locale, pummeling to the ground because SOMEONE FORGOT WHAT HEEL MEANS, and I am falling, and my knees hit the pavement, and then my hands (barely enough skin enclosed meat to type now), and then my left thigh and then my stomach, which happened to skid at least 2" in a very "slide into home base" manner, accross the asphalt to a not so soft landing of my chin hitting the road. Mother Bugger! That not only sucked, it was embarrassing to face plant whether a tony area or not. Ne'er a Mercedes did stop to see if I was okay. But I got up, brushed off, and started jogging again. With a "grmmph" in my stride of course.

Physically a battering day for me, but I can tell you, Jake heeled perfectly thereafter. He felt really bad, it was apparant. Well, at least he behaved until the next outing. As for me, I dismissed myself from the 12 mile run this morning because I think I bruised my ribs. Or maybe I didn't, but it feels like I have spent the last 6 months like the chick from Terminator II (that means in a jail cell doing sit-ups and getting pysically fit for the end of the world) and my neck is sore and sensitive (that means I need a jacuzzi - right now)! And the road rash on my tumtum ain't so perty either. But who's lookin'? Oh right, that Jewish producer guy. More on him later. I hope. But fyi Aunt Di - my mom luvs him - I told her she was getting the Tribe Vibe - ; )

Anyhoo, I am back in SF after 2 long weeks in Magestic Marin, bruises and all. I'm hoping the bod will be up to snuff tomorrow, since I JUST SIGNED UP FOR THE US HALF MARATHON taking place in November!!!! and I have to contiunue my training. I'm gonna kick ass. I promise! No screwing around this year; I'm already running 20+ miles/week. EZ PZ. And brunch after! Woo hoo. 11/5/06. Save the Date.

Tags:

• life
• stories
• running
• dogs

Something New Video Review

OK, back in the day, I said I wanted to see this movie, Something New. It's finally out on video, and being the cheap and not-so-movie-going-ish person that I am, I rented it. I have two things to say about it: 1 - it is good, so rent it! and 2- I have never seen so many black people in a Starbucks before. If this is a true L.A. reality, please advise. Note this doesn't mean I won't go in, it's just that the scene was a little too contrite for me.

Anyway, all in all a better than expected film. It only has a few extras on the dvd, and they're not mind blowing, but they're definitely worth watching - even if the second one is only worth it in order to hear Simon Baker speak in his natural tongue (which he had always done such a good job of hiding for us Yanks).

Tags:

• movies
• critique
• funny

Jake Gets Pooped

I'm taking care of a friend's pets yet again. It hasn't been all roses like I had anticipated: having a happy-go-lucky yellow lab obediently by my side for all adventures, having the cats curled up on the couch next to me for an evening of reading or boob tube. There must be something in the water out there in Tiburon because one or both of the cats has diarrhea and, since Wednesday, so does the dog.

Yesterday I took the dog on a hike, which he loves because he gets to be off leash, smell around and frolick behind me and then sprint up ahead to lead the way again. About 15 minutes into the trail I hesitated to continue: not only was there a new trail I could go down, but I also smelled the faint hint of smoke. Is there a fire smuldering somewhere down the path? If so, which path? What if I take this path straight back but the fire is starting on the path to the left, and by the time I come back the exit will be cut off by flames... I'll perish like a trapped rabbit! But, what if the fire is on the trail straight ahead? Can I run fast enough to outpace a forest fire? And then I sniffed the air again, and couldn't smell fire anymore, so continued on my way.

After feeling comfortable walking with little probability of encountering flames, I noticed that everytime Jake ran in front of me he seemed to have really bad gas. Geez, dog, what the hell have you been eating? We trudged along him gassing away and me exhaling the fumes away from me, and I thought I heard a mountain bike coming. The dog is pretty good about sticking to one side of the trail or another... until a person approaches either running or biking, so upon thinking a biker was coming I ordered Jake to stop so I could catch up and hold him out of the way. As he stopped and turned I freaked out.

Jake was bleeding from his neck! Oh no! What did he catch himself on? Poor puppy! As I ran closer I began to see... see exactly why the dog was emitting such foul odors - it wasn't blood smeared from his jawbone down his chest, it was shit. He must have slipped in his own poop earlier on the trail. Poopy faced Jake and I finished our walk, I tried to clean him up as much as possible before putting him in my car (unroll all windows, open sunroof!), taking him home and then having to give him a bath (which he despised). By the time I finished that, discovered ants covering the cats' food bowl and dealing with that, it was 9:00pm.

Ah... another day in paradise!

Tags:

• life
• funny
• dogs

"There's No Fixin' Things These Days"

"There's no fixin' things these days" is a quote from the British movie "On a Clear Day." And it's so right. It probably doesn't have a lot to do with the plot (I just paused the film, so maybe it does tie in somewhere). Don't get me going on my anti-consumerism mumbo-jumbo, just know that I despise the [consumerist, not health and sciencey-types of] disposable plastics that surround us and fill our all-too-small-for-marketing-forced-consumer-appetited landfills. So there.

OK. Carry on then! Right-o.

Tags:

• life
• consumerism
• ant-consumerism
• plastic
• landfills

Clickity-Clack Attack

My old building was built in 1910 (4 years after the Big One - er, earthquake, that is). It was built on solid bedrock (I'd say 77% of SF is) and has wonderful period details, like rounded bay windows, 14' ceilings and a fabulous decorative fireplace (that took me HOURS to repaint, by the way). It also has some not-so-period details invented by my old landlord, like a '70's style kitchen and super ugly light brown carpeting.

My new building is a re-constructed 1940's gem with mohogany-stained hardwood floors, 12' ceilings, lovely crown molding and Old World charm. With east and west facing windows, my "Bone"-colored walls get the most elegant light all through the day. The negative here is the "re-constructed" part: this building was part of the 23% NOT built on solid bedrock, and, in pictures from 1989, could have been anyone of the absolutely destroyed buildings lying flat on the ground after Jr. Big One.

I love my new apartment. I love the location. I love the windows and the light pouring through them. I love the floors and the crown moldings. BUT. What I don't like, is the CLICKITY-CLACK of the new neighbor upstairs who has OBVIOUSLY never been anything but a top-floor renter (if a renter at all). The ordinance in SF is to have 70% of hardwood floors covered, but I think it should be altered to "70% of traffic areas on the hardwood floors covered." She must have been a gymnist growing up. I mean seriously. This little girl of 5'2" IF THAT, really lands her feet. Lands them! Really. Forget the 6:45 am traipsing around in her work heels (which happens like clockword M-F,which is only somewhat bothersome now that I'm early to bed, early to rise), I'm talking her general barefoot traipses. Girl! There are people living down here! Under your thinly and cheaply laid hardwood floor with barely a subfloor and ceiling in between. Let's all trollip gently through the tulips now, shall we? OK. OK then. Good. Sheesh. Now we can all just get along.

Tags:

• life
• apartments
• living

The Short, Sad Life of my Little Basil Plant

One bummer in moving from my old place is that I had to get rid of my potted plants. I only had one indoor plant, but I had a lemon tree and some potted flowers on my huge fire escape. There's just not enough space in the new place.

I had been wanting to grow some herbs on the kitchen window sill, but it's so narrow that I never figured I could find a small enough pot that was big enough for herbs. Last weekend my mom surprised me with a teeny tiny pot with a teeny tiny basil plant! I was in love.

Well, it's been a rough road for little Basil! First everything I watered him with was too forceful/fast and the water would run right off the soil, so he was thirsty. Then I found the perfect watering can - a milk creamer - and all was well and he was on the road to health, enjoying the open window in the kitchen... until yesterday. A big wind came through and when I got home little Basil was all over the floor surrounded by a broken pot and the few ounces of soil that surrounded his teeny tiny roots. He's sitting in a little candle holder w/some water now, but who knows how long he will hold out?

: ( Sorry little guy.

Tags:

• life
• gardening
• basil