I recently reported that I have nothing to report. Some curve balls, yes. And I'm really glad to have had the perspective I had then, as it continues even further now. After all, they are just curve balls; they are diffucult to navigate, but any pro can manage.
After the previous post of un-interesting events, some others have occurred.
Another one of my contracts closed - pay day - woo hoo. But my company decided to take a big chunk to cover some costs. Boo.
A few days later, my best friend who I hadn't talked to in 6 weeks had her birthday. We went out, had fun, and the late night ended after a 1 hour discussion on how we had both f*cked up. This, actually, wasn't so bad. I swear - so much in the world can be put right just by hearing the other side. Clarity people! We're not totally renewed, but we're both aware now of some outstanding stuff and know we're important enough to each other to work through it and continue to be beacons in each other's lives.
That same night, however, I neglected to remove my cell phone from the car, and awakened next morning to a smashed in car window (no! Desdemona! no!) and the mobile gone. Most of the following Monday was dedicated to getting a new cell and a new window.
But here's where perspective comes into play. Several unfortunate events have come to me recently, but nothing life-altering (except an almost gone best friend, which is pretty huge and altering). But the rest: Annoying? Yes. Inconveniencing? Yes. Expensive to replace when I totally wasn't at fault? Certainly. But it's not like one of my parents died, which happened just recently to another friend.
Over Father's Day weekend, a friend's dad passed away. I simply could not imagine a more devastating blow. To not be there; to have so many things left unsaid; to have so many more life processes to go for which one would want to share with one's parents. Makes my curve balls seem even more trivial than they already seemed. After all, I have pretty much lived 10 years incident-free in a big urban metropolis.
So please, just talk to your loved ones. Parents, rellies, children, and best friends, and let them know you care. I was fortunate enough to putz around my parents' place on Father's Day, trimming the bottle brush tree in front while my dad worked the garden in back and my mom planned her sister's visit and her week's meals in the kitchen, and then I was dragged to the grocery store and helped make a King's Dinner for Dear Old Dad on the BBQ, and I couldn't have asked for anything more that day.
Showing posts with label life. Show all posts
Showing posts with label life. Show all posts
June 19, 2007
May 31, 2007
The new mosquito delight - my O+ eyelids
Occassionally some nordic, moisture-hating version of a mosquito travels into the habitat of my dry-aired apartment and calls it home. I don't discover the mosquito until it annoyingly announces itself about 5 minutes before my REM sleep. Then I begin the frustrating contortion act of trying to be comfortable and able to breathe while hiding 100% of my body underneath the covers for protection.
It's not an easy task. The problem is that by being under the covers you can no longer hear the blood-sucker approaching and finding that one damned spot you left vulnerable. An elbow. A pinky toe. Your forehead.
Sometimes I wonder why mosquitos make the noise they make: after all, it warns us to duck and cover. Then I think maybe other species don't hear the mosquito and the sound we hear is a warning system set-up in the human body. I wonder if mosquitos and other blood suckers prefer a certain blood type, say for example mine, which is O+, since I always seem to be bothered the most. And then I wander off to sleep with only my airways poking out of a sea of bedcovers.
For the third consecutive time, I have awakened to discover that the mosquito has bitten me on the EYELID. Let me tell you this is the most annoying place to have an itch, and the resulting swelling not only makes me look like a descendent of the Elephant Man but also lays pressure on the eye, which makes me feel sleepy all day. I am now going out to buy straws, so I can cover my entire head for the next round.
It's not an easy task. The problem is that by being under the covers you can no longer hear the blood-sucker approaching and finding that one damned spot you left vulnerable. An elbow. A pinky toe. Your forehead.
Sometimes I wonder why mosquitos make the noise they make: after all, it warns us to duck and cover. Then I think maybe other species don't hear the mosquito and the sound we hear is a warning system set-up in the human body. I wonder if mosquitos and other blood suckers prefer a certain blood type, say for example mine, which is O+, since I always seem to be bothered the most. And then I wander off to sleep with only my airways poking out of a sea of bedcovers.
For the third consecutive time, I have awakened to discover that the mosquito has bitten me on the EYELID. Let me tell you this is the most annoying place to have an itch, and the resulting swelling not only makes me look like a descendent of the Elephant Man but also lays pressure on the eye, which makes me feel sleepy all day. I am now going out to buy straws, so I can cover my entire head for the next round.
May 02, 2007
A New Kind of Sign Language ~ This Time for Love ~
Granted, I'm a girl who rarely dates and I'm still rather clueless in the department, but I think all my dating problems have finally been solved!
Enter The Bar Code. Apparantly, a discernable sign language allowing you to talk to strangers, when your eyes or your body, or probably nervousness in my case, won't allow. A new language, so to speak, for when all esle fails.
I can't but think this phenomenon will spread like the "Cougars," but will it ultimately pan out as a form of communication other than "can I get in your pants?" I'm wondering if the most popular sign will ultimately translate to be The Number One French phrase known by non-French speakers: Woulez-vous couchez avec moi?
Enter The Bar Code. Apparantly, a discernable sign language allowing you to talk to strangers, when your eyes or your body, or probably nervousness in my case, won't allow. A new language, so to speak, for when all esle fails.
I can't but think this phenomenon will spread like the "Cougars," but will it ultimately pan out as a form of communication other than "can I get in your pants?" I'm wondering if the most popular sign will ultimately translate to be The Number One French phrase known by non-French speakers: Woulez-vous couchez avec moi?
April 05, 2007
Ocean, Faking, & an Axe
A few years back when I lived close to the beach, my roommate-slash-best friend and I would often walk down there and lay around if the weather was half decent. Usually it was a lazy time of reading and smoking cigarettes and laughing our arses off about nothing.
The problem with San Francisco's beaches on half-decent days is that they are public, and our un-beloved homeless people consider them a nice place to "freshen up."
Minding our own business and hiding behind sunglasses, we were approached by such a character. He was in his mid-50's, had grey scraggly hair and a scraggly beard to match. He came up to us with his backpack on and started talking:
"Would you gals watch my bag while I go in the water?"
Immediately Best Friend and I spoke in French. "No English. Francais. French..." and we began chatting bull to each other and went back to our reading.
But he was unphazed; still there. "Hola. Watch-o my bag-o por favor. I swim." And then he pointed to the ocean, did the breast stroke, and pointed to himself.
"French." That should do it!
It didn't. He started to take off his shoes and said "I swim. Bag-o," pointing at us, then pointed to his eyes, then pointed to the bag. I looked at the bag: it had an axe tied to it. I shook my head "no." He walked toward the water and started taking off his pants.
"DUDE! He has a fucking AXE! What should we do?"
Best friend: "Move?"
Me: "But what if he gets pissed and comes after us?"
Best friend: "Move, but not so far that he gets pissed?"
We tried that. Obviously, since I'm alive to tell the story, it worked.
The problem with San Francisco's beaches on half-decent days is that they are public, and our un-beloved homeless people consider them a nice place to "freshen up."
Minding our own business and hiding behind sunglasses, we were approached by such a character. He was in his mid-50's, had grey scraggly hair and a scraggly beard to match. He came up to us with his backpack on and started talking:
"Would you gals watch my bag while I go in the water?"
Immediately Best Friend and I spoke in French. "No English. Francais. French..." and we began chatting bull to each other and went back to our reading.
But he was unphazed; still there. "Hola. Watch-o my bag-o por favor. I swim." And then he pointed to the ocean, did the breast stroke, and pointed to himself.
"French." That should do it!
It didn't. He started to take off his shoes and said "I swim. Bag-o," pointing at us, then pointed to his eyes, then pointed to the bag. I looked at the bag: it had an axe tied to it. I shook my head "no." He walked toward the water and started taking off his pants.
"DUDE! He has a fucking AXE! What should we do?"
Best friend: "Move?"
Me: "But what if he gets pissed and comes after us?"
Best friend: "Move, but not so far that he gets pissed?"
We tried that. Obviously, since I'm alive to tell the story, it worked.
March 22, 2007
Gertie's Advice #26
During allergy season, refrain from taking Sudafed and then having 2 cups of coffee. That is, unless you like being in an uneasy jittery panic for 4 hours.
February 12, 2007
Damned Nanny
That damned Supper Nanny. She makes me cry every time. Every Time! Or, maybe it's not Super Nanny's fault. Maybe I'm just a sucker for family relationships. Ugh. Kleenex!
February 11, 2007
Dear Neighbor
Dear Neighbor,
I made the mistake of driving home late last night and parking in front of your house. Because it was dark, I did not see that you paid the Dept of Parking & Traffic an exhorbitant amount of money to paint your curb red. Regardless, I certainly left enough space for you to pull your car into the garage. A $75 Blocked Driveway ticket would have been a good enough lesson for me to know never park there again... you didn't have to tow my car and make me pay an additional $218 to go get it out of impound tonight. May Karma slap you silly in your next life.
Love,
Your Neighbor
I made the mistake of driving home late last night and parking in front of your house. Because it was dark, I did not see that you paid the Dept of Parking & Traffic an exhorbitant amount of money to paint your curb red. Regardless, I certainly left enough space for you to pull your car into the garage. A $75 Blocked Driveway ticket would have been a good enough lesson for me to know never park there again... you didn't have to tow my car and make me pay an additional $218 to go get it out of impound tonight. May Karma slap you silly in your next life.
Love,
Your Neighbor
February 08, 2007
Ha ha ha ha!
I'll have to translate for you, but this (to me) is hilarious....
... a message from my French meet-up group (to which I have not gone yet after 4 months) about the St. Valentine dance ("ball"):
SI les hommes sont timides a inviter les femmes a danser ... elles peuvent les inviter! & bien sur un Monsieur ne refuse jamais a une femme de danser avec elle. Dansez, amusez-vous Seul/e ou avec un/e partenaire peu importe! l'idee c'est de danser & de s'amuser. Que personne ne reste
assis/e. N'oubliez pas que la musique & la danse sont un elixir pourl'ame & le corps...
"If the men are too timid to invite the women to dance, the women can ask the men! And, of course, a "gentleman" never refuses to dance with a woman. So everyone dance and have fun, individually, with a partner or as a group, it doesn't matter! The idea is to dance and have fun. Nobody should be sitting. Don't forget that music and dancing are an 'elixer' for the body and spirit..."
Ha ha ha ha! Nevermind the previous email, which I won't pain you with in translating, about the "dress code."
... a message from my French meet-up group (to which I have not gone yet after 4 months) about the St. Valentine dance ("ball"):
SI les hommes sont timides a inviter les femmes a danser ... elles peuvent les inviter! & bien sur un Monsieur ne refuse jamais a une femme de danser avec elle. Dansez, amusez-vous Seul/e ou avec un/e partenaire peu importe! l'idee c'est de danser & de s'amuser. Que personne ne reste
assis/e. N'oubliez pas que la musique & la danse sont un elixir pourl'ame & le corps...
"If the men are too timid to invite the women to dance, the women can ask the men! And, of course, a "gentleman" never refuses to dance with a woman. So everyone dance and have fun, individually, with a partner or as a group, it doesn't matter! The idea is to dance and have fun. Nobody should be sitting. Don't forget that music and dancing are an 'elixer' for the body and spirit..."
Ha ha ha ha! Nevermind the previous email, which I won't pain you with in translating, about the "dress code."
January 16, 2007
Hotwire? You Tool.
Someone tried, I think, to hotwire my car. This past Monday night. I only realized yesterday, well, because I was just in my car yesterday, and there was this pair of willy nilly needle nose pliers just laying there on the floor beneath my floor mat.
Now, I don't normally carry around a pair of needle nose pliers. And, let me tell 'ya, I don't just have them hanging hither nither in my BMW. No-sir-ee. The BMW has its own little tool kit right in the trunk with everything you should need for the roadside emergency. I am not missing a pair of worn-out, chipped-red-paint needle nose pliers from there.
So, it was odd to find these needle noses pliers peeking up on the floor. I thought to my self: "what the fuh...?!" Rewind.
I remembered Monday night. Monday night I had an evening meeting in the Old Neighborhood, the Haight Ashbury. I parked my car; I was early. I decided to visit a couple old haunts. I rumbled the streets. Then finally the hour of my appointment showed up, and I went into said appointment and had a grand olde time with some grande olde folkes with some good 'ole wine for the next two hours. Some colleagues and I walked me to My Desdemona afterward, my tragically beautifully ancient BMW parked on the street.
Whoops. In my excitement for the monthly meeting, I had neglected to lock the car. Initial review: all intact (only retards leave shit in their cars in SF). Phew. Get in, belt up. Roll.
And then yesterday I got in My Desi to go to work, and lo and behold! A booby prize: not new at all needle nose pliers. Cool. Fucked up, but cool. Must have been that someone that Monday night in the Haight Ash tested the doors and found them open. Popped in - BUT! Hold on there Fellow! Everyone sees you and YOU - quite honestly - do not own a Beemer. So, get scared you bastard and run, run! Run! That's right. My Desdemona is not a tragedy for your gain. Bi-atch. And now I have your tool, Tool.
Now, I don't normally carry around a pair of needle nose pliers. And, let me tell 'ya, I don't just have them hanging hither nither in my BMW. No-sir-ee. The BMW has its own little tool kit right in the trunk with everything you should need for the roadside emergency. I am not missing a pair of worn-out, chipped-red-paint needle nose pliers from there.
So, it was odd to find these needle noses pliers peeking up on the floor. I thought to my self: "what the fuh...?!" Rewind.
I remembered Monday night. Monday night I had an evening meeting in the Old Neighborhood, the Haight Ashbury. I parked my car; I was early. I decided to visit a couple old haunts. I rumbled the streets. Then finally the hour of my appointment showed up, and I went into said appointment and had a grand olde time with some grande olde folkes with some good 'ole wine for the next two hours. Some colleagues and I walked me to My Desdemona afterward, my tragically beautifully ancient BMW parked on the street.
Whoops. In my excitement for the monthly meeting, I had neglected to lock the car. Initial review: all intact (only retards leave shit in their cars in SF). Phew. Get in, belt up. Roll.
And then yesterday I got in My Desi to go to work, and lo and behold! A booby prize: not new at all needle nose pliers. Cool. Fucked up, but cool. Must have been that someone that Monday night in the Haight Ash tested the doors and found them open. Popped in - BUT! Hold on there Fellow! Everyone sees you and YOU - quite honestly - do not own a Beemer. So, get scared you bastard and run, run! Run! That's right. My Desdemona is not a tragedy for your gain. Bi-atch. And now I have your tool, Tool.
November 20, 2006
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:
"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 sameproblems symptoms, and talk about them! Even better, they’ll pay you $100.
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
November 14, 2006
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.
And people think I'm crazy to get up early to run.
November 13, 2006
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.
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.
November 11, 2006
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?
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).
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).
November 10, 2006
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.
October 07, 2006
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
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
October 03, 2006
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 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.
September 09, 2006
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.
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.
September 01, 2006
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!
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!
August 25, 2006
"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.
OK. Carry on then! Right-o.
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