I'll be home for Christmas part III

Which "rhymes with 'if only in my dreams'" variation is most suitable to my annual return home to Connecticut? I'm leaving tonight, so I give you, dear reader, the choice:

I'll be home for Christmas,
You can count on me.
Please have snow and mistletoe
And presents under the tree.
Christmas Eve will find me,
Where the love light gleams.
I'll be home for Christmas,
_________________.

a) listening to mom's parrots scream!
b) drinking dunkin' donuts coffee (which is mostly cream)!
c) cheering for my tundra bowl team!
d) watching gutter icicles gleam!
e) admiring the hot tub's steam!

Happy Holidays!

Unprecedented

I left home at 8:15am today. I got into work at 8:35am. I never dipped below 40 miles per hour on the bridge, whose speed limit, I believe, is usually 50mph by law and 15mph by practice.

Happy Holidays to ME!! People need to take vacations more often!! If only every morning could be THAT easy!

Cheerfully yours,

EHH

Not Terribly Clever

You're all probably familiar with the myriad names that a spoof or spam email will use to get their emails past your spam detector. "Thurnbockle Snogglesworth" has sent you an email entitled "BEST STOCKS ACT NOW," for example.

Which is why I had to laugh when I opened my spam folder to be sure an email wasn't accidentally diverted into it, and saw maybe the least clever cover name I'd ever seen attached to a spam email.

It said, simply: PARASITE.

Ha ha ha -- I'm a cheap date!!

My blog is worth $564.54.
How much is your blog worth?

Driving Miss Piggy

I left the house at 8:05am today, and got to work at 8:40am.
I left the house at 8:15am on Thursday and got to to work at 9:15am.

There is no calculating Calicommuting...you just leave a little early and cross your fingers.

Last night S. and I had a baking fest. Don't know what inspired us exactly -- he got a hankering to bake a pumpkin pie, because it's one of the only sweets he likes, and because he's not "a baker" and wants to start learning. So I gave him my favorite pumpkin pie recipe and we dug up a graham cracker crust recipe (which we used old girl scout shortbread cookies for -- at last!! a use!!) and he buckled down to bake (or should I say, bakled down?)

I got a hankering for bread. Hadn't used the ol' bread machine in a bit, and hadn't yet used the birthday book o' bread baking recipes (or should I say, the broeakingday o' recipes? Hmm, that one didn't work so well...) I got from L., so I dug up a yummy sounding recipe and another yummy sounding recipe, and made a bread machined loaf of parmesan olivey goodness and an traditional oven baked loaf of Pumpkin bread, substituting the 1/2 cup of oil in the recipe with cinnamon applesauce as a low fat option, thanks to a trick my stepmother taught me.

The parmesan olive one kinda came out a little shrunken and none of the olives incorporated into the inside of the loaf -- so it has a very elaborate crust!! But it still came out okay and is quite flavorful. And the pumpkin bread is too moist. I didn't think pumpkin bread could be too moist, but I cooked it at a slightly lower temperature than was recommended -- so S. could bake his pie at the same time -- and I'm wondering if some of that moisture was meant to burn off? Or was it the applesauce substitute? Dunno.

S. reports that his pie tastes great, though the crust is stuck to the pan. So I guess it was a moral victory for us -- sheer creativity points -- rather than an awesome success.

I have been getting over a cold. I seem to get one annually, and this one came right on the heels of my flight back from VA, so it makes sense. I think yesterday may have been my first full day of energy post-cold, which may explain the sudden burst of baking endeavors...

Happy Christmas Season!

Superhero or Cleaner?

This is pretty funny!

http://www.bbspot.com/News/2005/11/superhero_quiz.php

I only got 12 out of 20 -- it is harder than you think!

Vegetable Victory and Vitamin Value

Last night, after a long day and a lengthy gym workout, I was desperately craving pasta -- rich, cheese-laden rigatoni with italian sausage in the marinara sauce. Instead I walked to the supermarket and bought italian and yellow squash, mushrooms, an onion, and some canned diced tomatoes and made up a little ragout-like saute instead, like my mom used to make. Which she then would put over some angel-hair pasta.

Which I did not. I did put it over a half a cup of cooked white rice. But I was led not into pasta consumption, for I delivered myself some vegetables.

It was good.

Also, I've started taking a multi-vitamin, daily. I have proof that my body is absorbing and benefiting from this practice -- my fingernails grow like nobody's business, but more noticeably, they don't break or chip any more. Previously they've grown pretty fast but have an upper-limit of length because they chip and shred after a certain point. These days I've had to file those suckers down twice since I started taking the vitamins, because they're getting in the way of me comfortably typing!!

Aside from Veggies and Vitamins, things trundle on like normal. Hope you all are well. (~i_i)

Life Quiz

Thanks to Jack for posting his first...

This Is My Life, Rated
Life:	7.1
Mind:	7.2
Body:	6.8
Spirit:	7.9
Friends/Family:	5
Love:	6.9
Finance:	7.7
Take the Rate My Life Quiz

It's kind of a bland quiz -- it just sort of rates how healthy each of these factors is. My life is "on a good path" -- apparently. "Your friends and family score is not bad but can be improved. Maintain your current social net, while you try to expand it. Try new things and form new friendships. You will be rewarded greatly." I think this quiz is predisposed to believe that three to five good friends is too low. I disagree. I think the people who are close to me are great at support, healthiness and dependability. So there!

Halloweeeeeee!

Hey everyone,

I had a great Halloween weekend. Steve has started accompanying me to ROCK, the kids organization I volunteer with, and so this Saturday morning was their costume celebration. I put on some tiger pants I hadn't worn in 5 years (ow, were they tight!), ears, a tail, and some tigery eye make up, and Steve dressed as a 'giants fan.' So many cute costumes -- little American Idols, Devils, Samurais, one Human Torch, some Scream masks that "dripped blood" -- Halloween is really all about kids age 6-12, so it was fun to get to be with them. Steve, by the way, is a hit with the 5th grade boys. They want to sumo wrestle him, sword fight him, beat him in basketball...it's really cute. I, on the other hand, seem to be a hit with the 4th grade girls (which was probably my happiest year at Rumsey...interesting) -- especially the ones who find themselves on the margins. It's still hard to get up early on Saturday morning, but even more fulfilling to be making lots of connections with these kids. This weekend is the last one of the season, to resume in January.

Saturday night was our friends 3rd annual halloween party, as well as Steve's best friend's 30th birthday (he got the "best depressing statement of the night award" by saying, Welcome to your Fourth Decade!). My friends had cooked up a fairie theme, Leslie was an Autumn fairie, Laura was a Winter fairie, Sarah (their new house mate and a friend of mine from Wes) was Spring, and another friend, Becca, was Summer. To fit myself into this theme with some degree of autonomy, I went as a Night fairie, or Night personified, and Steve, game as he always is, went as...you guessed it...Day. When we thought of it, it clicked like a pair of red sequin heels: night and day. I rocked a black bob wig, a black vintage eightie's dress with lots of tulle in the skirt, black wings, dark make up, false eyelashes with shimmery beads on the end, and stars and moons where ever I could draw or stick them (though they didn't stay stuck long). Steve found a flamey colored tunic, a sun mask, some flamey wings, and some orangey gold tights. He vaguely looked like a Mexican Wrestler, which led us to call him El Sol all night. He was a hit where ever we went, not just for sheer bravery points. Also, we got to use our latest word of the day -- together we formed a Nycthemeron, which is a 24 hour period. (~_-)

Email me if you must see pictures. (^_^)

And today -- the actual day of Halloween -- I re-donned the wig, threw on some dark make up and some red lips and a black dress and some black boots -- kinda going as a 1920's vamp...only to find that NO ONE IN MY OFFICE DRESSED UP.

Um...can we say, "salient"?

But if I've learned anything, it's that I can "do" goth or "go" black if I "wanted" to. Lots o' compliments, double takes, and extra visits to my desk.

It's been nice to transform 3 times in a row. I hope you all got equal opportunities for rebirths, be it cosmetic or metaphysical...Happy Dark and Scary Day!

Also -- thanks to 2Dad for the card and to Mom and Steve for the care package. Always a pleasure to receive honest-to-goodness mail. Kisses!

In neglect, the Mountains Stood in Haze

A. called me a couple days ago and reminded me of a few of my favorite poems I'd dug up in my college days. I'm grateful because I'd almost forgotten they'd existed, but I used to love them so much that so much as the first few syllables escaped his lips and I was spouting the lines with him.

Here they are:

In Neglect, by Robert Frost

They leave us so to the way we took
As two in whom they were proved mistaken,
That we sit sometimes in the wayside nook,
With mischievous, vagrant, seraphic look,
And try if we cannot feel forsaken.

An excerpt from The Mountains Stood in Haze, by Emily Dickinson

So soft upon the scene
The act of evening fell
We felt how neighborly a thing
Was the invisible.

Follow your passion...even if you want to eat your city

My friend L found this. It was too cool not to post.

http://www.lizhickok.com/assets/portfolio/pages/01city.html

Random poem, revisited

One of my favorite poetry sites is the plagiarist.com, where users type in their favorite poems, and after verification, they get posted and can be commented on, discussed, etc. They also have a feature for generating a random poem, and today's random poem was one that I not only knew, but has a line I absolutely love. Here's the poem reproduced, and with my favorite line in italics:

Autumn Daybreak
Edna St. Vincent Millay

Cold wind of autumn, blowing loud
At dawn, a fortnight overdue,
Jostling the doors, and tearing through
My bedroom to rejoin the cloud,
I know—for I can hear the hiss
And scrape of leaves along the floor—
How may boughs, lashed bare by this,
Will rake the cluttered sky once more.
Tardy, and somewhat south of east,
The sun will rise at length, made known
More by the meagre light increased
Than by a disk in splendour shown;
When, having but to turn my head,
Through the stripped maple I shall see,
Bleak and remembered, patched with red,
The hill all summer hid from me.


The whole poem has a lot to say -- that impending cold and bleakness can reveal as much as light and warmth -- but the line I italicized strikes a chord with me as a reminder that --evolution, change, the light at the end of the tunnel -- the things we strive for -- so often show up as a "meagre light increased" than as "a disk in splendour shown."

Sometimes what reveals progress most is simply the guts, not the glory.

Hesychasts

I've been hearing the phrase 'navel gazing' boundied* about for a while, and today I finally decided to see from whence it came.

Found an unexpected answer here -- it came from monks!!

*so this is obviously not a word. I didn't even notice it at first. I meant to say "bandied about" or "bounced around" and got "boundied." I stand by my completely made up word -- it's obviously divine inspiration as a direct result of hesychasm.

Yes Please!!

Check it out -- a new twist on an old idea...

Cell Phone Booth!

Now, do they make any for cars?

Playing Catch Up

Hey guys,

Last week was very busy as is this week, but I've noticed my energy levels are revving back up, so I'll try to post more often. Great things have happened in the interim since I last wrote -- firstly, two (more!) of Steve's friends got married up in Healdsburg -- one of the more awesome weddings I've been to. It was a traditional Jewish wedding, and everyone totally got into it, Jewish or not -- singing to get the couple to come out and sign the ketubah (sp??), crying at their vows, laughing at their foibles; at the reception: hoisting them up in chairs, forming a circle and doing goofy little skits and dances to make them laugh, and going even further -- doing the wave during dinner, creating cheers for each individual table (which were named after obscure islands -- we sat at Palau), and everyone in the room squinting one eye and shouting "ARRRRR!" like a pirate at the best man's behest. It was one of the most participatory weddings I have ever seen, and it was awesome.

The second major event was Steve's "3rd annual 29th birthday," as he likes to put it. This past Saturday we threw a little late afternoon barbecue and lots of people came -- the last guest didn't leave until 7 hours later!! We created a new drinking game too, one whose premise is not based on getting smashed, but rather, based on guts. Succinctly, we called it ring toss. Between my birthday and his birthday and people showing up bearing booz,e we had a lot more alcohol than we could have ever anticipated, and people were daunted by what to mix. Rather than maturely suggest common drink combinations, we created three foil rings and willing volunteers threw them until they landed on three different bottles -- which they then combined in a shot and drank.

I know warning bells may be going off in your head, so let me tell you the parameters:
1) no one was forced -- to play you had to volunteer
2) you only mixed 3 things
3) there were lots of standard non-alcoholic mixers on the table, including some wild cards -- rice vinegar, pepper shaker, home-made hot-pepper infused vodka, etc.
4) the ring-tosser got to choose their own quantity of each ingredient, and these only combined to the size of a shot, so no one got ill
5) we only played three rounds

Immature, gross, and hilarious, but by no means a road to getting smashed, which is why it was fun. Actually, the most fun part was coming up with terrible names for the things we had to drink, most of which aren't reproducible here. One of the grossest ones, for example, was named "living death" by its drinker -- lemon juice, beer, and tequila rose -- which for the uninitiated is a creme liqueur that tastes like an ever so slightly alcoholic strawberry milkshake -- the key word involved here is "Curdle."

What really counts though is that Steve had a fabulous time and felt very loved and celebrated. (A shout out to Mom and HerSt for their generous gifts -- S. was tickled pink and especially ecstatic over the slicer, as you well know! We also received the best buy g.c., though it didn't say it was from you so I had to tell him.)

Other than that, I've been working hard, trying to get to the gym at least twice a week, reading some great books (I think you will very much enjoy Mary Doria Russell's The Sparrow and its sequel Children of God -- read them if you can), and trying to relax when I can. This weekend volunteering starts up again, next week volleyball starts up again -- oh, by the way, we were league champions for our division this past season -- woohoo!! -- and tonight I'm going to an A's game.

Life is good. Hope the same can be said for you.

Horsie!

So a funny thing happened on the way to work this morning -- driving down Telegraph in Oakland I see someone on horseback at the side of the road. I was fully prepared to assume it was some loon taking the urban frontier back, but it was a policeman. "Cool," I thought, "wish I could take a picture," and drove on.

When I got to work, I needed coffee -- got lots of meeting minutes to polish. So I trot on over to the coffee joint and who should I see at the intersection but a mounted policeman. "Cool," I thought, "if he's still there when I come out, maybe I'll see if I can take a picture."

He was. I walked up and politely asked to take his pic, and turns out he was very friendly and handsome -- gave me an open smile (while his equally handsome horse turned to inspect me -- probably smelled the sugary cinnamon bun in the bag), and even asked if we wanted him to face or pose a certain way.

"Nope, just a smile will do."

Not one to be passive, he gently tugged his horse ("Rocko?" I think was his name) to look at the camera.

Et voila. I had mentioned that I wanted the pic because it was such a rare thing to see, and he said that was no surprise, because there was only one of him. So it was the same man I saw driving in.


The one mounted policeman in Oakland.

Oh man, do I miss horses. "Rocko?" was very blase and matter of fact about the whole interaction, obviously well accustomed to his rider, traffic, and pedestrians. Aside from that distracting whiff of cinnamon sugar, he was ready for a pleasant amble or a sudden burst of action. How well I remember that attitude from all the bomb-proof trail riding antics of camp horses, or the bond that formed with my favorite horse of all back when I used to take lessons -- Tasha, a long, tall drink of horse water who used to take me around at a break-neck canter and rub her head against my back when we were walking to cool down.

*Sighs.*

Might be time to look into some riding lessons around here, or to take a vacation in Montana -- if only to get my fix.

Alabama, Louisana and Mississippi OPO's

Hey everyone,

While I'm lucky enough not to have close friends or family left behind in the path of the hurricane, I do have "coworkers" there by virtue of the organ donation community. I thought I would let you know that everyone in the Alabama, Lousiana and Mississippi OPOs (Organ Procurement Organization) -- Alabama Organ Center (AOC), Louisana Organ Procurement Agency (LOPA) and Mississippi Organ Recovery Agency (MORA) -- escaped unharmed, and they are continuing their operations out of alternate locations, and working on getting their technology back in light of the power outages. Not surprisingly, the hospitals they work so closely with are overwhelmed, but everyone is making a valiant effort to lend a hand -- each OPO to its hospitals and the hospitals to continue to refer potential organ donors where possible -- and of course all 3 OPOs have had numerous offers from the OPO community to back them up with man power, resources, etc.

All of it in the hopes of continuing to donate life (and/or quality thereof) in a death-heavy time. I truly love my job. We combat death and aid the severely ill every day, and in times like these, are particularly well equipped and quick to help.

I encourage all of you who feel helpless in the face of such wide-scale death to put some thought into donating organs and tissue, and if you decide that is what you want to do, make sure it's documented and discussed with your closest kin.

Otherwise, I wish love, light and courage to everyone facing the (personal, professional, and psychological) reconstruction of the coastal south.

Take care and lots of love,

Elise


p.s. in case you noticed, I deleted the "where I've been" post because it screwed up my side bar. Interestingly enough, Mississippi, Alabama and Louisiana were all on my "I don't think I've been" list. A lost chance for me...but I will be happy to put some tourism money into the reconstruction efforts by visiting soon.

Dear Saint Potpourri,

The time has come to complain. I'm sorry.

I appreciate the fact that there's a scent-squirter in the women's bathroom to mask any unpleasant smells. And for the most part, it works unobtrusively.

But it seems to be my luck to walk in at about the time that it sends out a fresh blast of scent. And in a small, windowless bathroom, it is like walking into the perfume section of a department store when they are actively hawking "Remora," their new expensive gladiola-sandalwood-eau-de-gorilla musk, and being cornered by three ambitious perfume mongerers who are paid on commission.

And worse still, it aims directly over the sink, so I am constantly facing the dilemma of whether to clean my hands and risk blinding myself, not to mention subject myself to level 5 olefactory hurricanes, or whether to spread germs as far as the office's kitchen sink, and THEN kill 'em off.

All of which leads to total paranoia -- entering the bathroom and listening, trepidatiously, for that unholy "shppppppppst" sound, at which point I have less than 5 seconds before I feel my hair anointed and must return to the office smelling like a french...well...you know...woman who likes to hang out on street corners late at night.

I swear I have transcended the sins of evil scent. Saint Potpourri, I need no further anointment! I have paid my nostril pennance! I have already been baptized! Have mercy!!

PSA: demonic possession still a myth

Calm down, folks, the zombie-virus has not yet leaked from the pentagon/terrorist/monkey facility in Africa, etc., nor have the demons finally broken the human brain-wave barrier.

It's just color contacts.

For those of you unacquainted with them, color contacts appear to change the color of your pupils, and these days they do so quite masterfully -- they can have the same streaks, spots, and variations of tone that normal irises do. However, the shades themselves are still unavoidably unnatural. There are eye colors we expect to see with certain hair shades and skin tones, and then there are startling eye colors that can make someone gorgeous, and then there are color contacts, which, more often than not, speak to me of demonic possession. They aren't meant to be subtle, so the colors are turquoise rather than blue, cedar rather than brown, emerald rather than green, and in some cases, violet or gold, which you just don't see much, if at all.

I will admit, my education in color contacts comes more from sci-fi and horror movies, so I'm probably making the association based on the content of said movies...

All of this stems from an experience with one of the girls behind the jamba juice counter, who was wearing color contacts. I'm sure jamba-girl usually has lovely brown eyes, and with her contacts on, she had golden orangey streaks and flecks as well.

She was smiling and friendly, and I'm pretty sure she wanted to make jamba juice out of my brains and suck them down with a straw. And while I'm sure my brains would go well with strawberries and orange sorbet, too, I'd rather not have to contemplate this on my lunch break.

However, it was just a false warning, so I thought I'd reassure any of you who have encountered it...reassure and forewarn. (~_-)

Returned from my return

I got back yesterday (about a year ago) from a week's visit to Connecticut (wait, I don't still live there?) with a day visit to New York (about five years ago) embedded.

The time dilation was astronomical and cohesion of experience entirely subordinated. Steve and I found ourselves unable to plumb the concept of a San Franciscan domicile within about 12 hours of our arrival last Tuesday. Assimilation into Connecticut life came swiftly and cleanly -- conversing about cars, dogs known as doods, real estate, tractors, humidity, Eastover; waking up to sunlight, which, bounced off of all that humid verdure, took on a golden crystalline aspect that both energized and soothed; and then morning broke on the crowning event of the visit -- an enatic family reunion.

Said family reunion, from marinated kabobs to souvenir t-shirts to Eastover's Erik-trimmed lawns, went off completely hitch-less-ly. My mom and Mary had the clever idea to color code the t-shirts according to branch of the family, so that the Freddie Pratts (my mom and Mary's dad) all received purple, the Teddie Pratts all received red, the Tracy Pratts all received blue, and the Butlers all received green. The brilliance of this idea became clear once the t-shirts were dispersed and donned -- almost immediately the family was aware of the tendency to clump within one's "color." This led to a sense of belonging, certainly, but also made later evidence of more widely dispersed comingling a satisfying visual collage.

I realized I have awesome cousins, all within 9 years of my age, athletic, friendly, wry and quick. This would be the result of excellent breeding, no matter what everyone says about their first marriages. ;0)

The trip to NYC was brief and phantasmagoric. We caught up with old friends and walked north along Central Park West for an hour, simply taking it all in. Sponsored by Steve's parents in their upper west side apartment, we gazed at the Hudson from the 23rd floor and slowly picked out the shapes of passers-by from the frenetic beige of the buildings.

Planes lead to the staccato of experience, it is widely agreed. But I must say, the train we took to and from NYC was no more skilled in adhesion than its aviatior counterpart. Steve and I bore a swollen sense of dislocation with a stoic cry of wee-wee-wee all the way home...and I find myself at work today sorting through a disjointed collage of contentedness.

I raise a toast upon the memory of an icey bottle of Sam Adam's Summer Ale -- Here's to family!

Hang in there, London

I'm glad to see that no one was killed this time, and my heart goes out to those people in London who are just trying to carry on with a normal commute and instead confront terrorism.

Again.

Let's hope it's the last time.

Also in my Links I Like section...

"How to Hawaiianize your name:

There are two ways to determine the Hawaiian equivalent of your name. The first is to determine the meaning of your name and then obtain the Hawaiian word for that meaning. The second, and the most common, is by the process of transliteration -- that is, to replace the letters in the English name with Hawaiian letters. This is not so easy since, as noted above, Hawaiian only has twelve letters.

So here is the formula:
Replace B, F, P with P

Replace C, D, G, J, K, Q, S, T, X, Z with K

Replace H with H

Replace N with N

Replace L, R with L

Replace V, W with W

Replace Y with I

Vowels remain the same. Also be sure to separate all consonants with a vowel. For example, Barbara would be PALAPALA because there must be a vowel between the "r" and "b" in Barbara."

This makes me Elike, pronounced Ay-Lee-Kay. If I go by translation, Elise is a derivative of Elizabeth, which is from the Greek Elisabet from the Hebrew Elisheba, which means "my God is an oath" or "my God is Abundant."

Translated into Hawaiian, Abundant God = Nui Akua, and God Oath = Akua Ho'Ohiki.

What's your Hawaiian name? Add it to the comments.

C'mon people, a little more audience participation, hmmmm?

Euphausia Superba

Hi all. I don't know how many of you have bothered to click on the "Antartic Krill" link to the right...so I thought I show you what you'd find.

From the web page about them: "special: some scientists describe Euphausia superba as the once most abundant multicellular species of the planet - some scientists describe Euphausia superba as one of the most flexible of our planet - some describe Euphausia superba as the most physiologically dynamic - some as a most interestingly designed - a famous scientist as "of almost extraterrestrial appearance, endowed with magical powers ", another: "The high importance of lowly krill"- and most of those few humans who were lucky to observe Euphausia superba alive, under water, lights still on, with the right optics, as utmost beautiful and fascinating."


Euphausia Superba. Aptly named.

I believe I found these by doing a search on Bioluminescence, but the website doesn't confirm if they're bioluminescent or not.

Still, bioluminescence has to be one of the coolest things on earth.

Though I would say, tied with some cephalopods' ability to shift color and irridescence. See my "Links I like" section to find out more.

Have a Great Oink Time

This is a fabulous site: http://drawapig.desktopcreatures.com/

You'll have to draw one first...

Draw yours first!!

Draw it!!

As they say "looking at other drawings will change the way you draw a pig and will change the results of the test."

Then -- THEN you can see mine. (Go to "Main Gallery," then to "Search the Piggies" and type in "E House.")

PLEASE copy the link to yours in the comments below!!

I'm about to be explaining this post

Recent IM conversation between me and a friend. I'm in regular green font, my friend's in purple. (Keep in mind that when you have typed conversations, replies are often one step behind the statement they're replying to...so try to keep up!)

TMC: When I grabbed lunch today I heard (to me) such a funny exchange. Two guys walk by, one goes "Where you fin to be?" and the other goes "I'm about to be right there." Translation: where are you going to sit? Right over there.
TMC: I like the "I'm about to be _________."
TMC: Like he's psychic about what happens next
FNL: hahahaa
TMC: FNL, I'm about to type the letter J.
TMC: J
TMC: OOOOOOOOOOOOOOH!
FNL: LOL
TMC: Not to be snide. It's actually the whimsy in me coming out. I want to popularize it beyond ebonics
FNL: i'm about to support you.
FNL: yeah
TMC: i'm about to be psyched
FNL: o my, omg. i'm about to...laugh
FNL: LOL
TMC: I'm about to laugh too
TMC: rofl
TMC: ROFL (*editor's note: ROFL means Rolling On the Floor Laughing, and is often symbolized by an emoticon laughing so hard it's crying)
TMC: whew, that was a close one.
FNL: whoa. did you know you were about to cry, too?
TMC: I was almost about to just abbreviate without laughing
TMC: yep.
FNL: i was about to say!
TMC: I said that out loud. you just didn't hear me. I'm about to be misunderstood!
TMC: I said that too
FNL: too late
FNL: i was about to be almost misunderstanding.
FNL: wha?
TMC: Dude, I'm about to be about to being.
FNL: NO WAY!
TMC: Seriously. It just happened. What did I about to tell you?
TMC: Hee hee. Can I post this conversation on my blog?
FNL: I'M ABOUT TO BE FORGOT
FNL: i don't know if i'm about to agree or not.
TMC: It's okay, I'm about to remember you
TMC: you what? Play'a pleeze. Everyone who's anyone is about to KNOW
TMC: ha ha
FNL: O.o
TMC: I'm about to be drinking fruit punch.
TMC: (sip)
TMC: (aaaah)
FNL: i'm about to pee my pants if i am not about to go to the bathroom
TMC: LOL
TMC: I hope you're about to be there
FNL: i'm about to hope, too.
FNL: who you about to be foolin!?
TMC: Ha ha, you were about to be fooled but then you're about to be getting wise to how about to be you are
TMC: word

And that, my friends, is a quality conversation you too can be about to hold with me on IM.

The footnote being, that in the conversation that I overheard that sparked this hilarity, the first guy says, "where you fin to be?" "Fin" is slang for "fixing," or "about," so he actually said "where you fixing to be?" or, more importantly, "where you about to be?" Which shows that he is so obviously not psychic like his friend. Ha!

I'm about to be ending this post!

Evil Orchids

If I'm ever sick or in the hospital and delirious or on pain meds and stuff and you want to send me flowers, please don't send orchids.

If you take a close look at them, it's pretty clear they want to eat you. Look here, or here. This one practically has a beak. Look at the evil little guy in the center of this one, plotting your demise. Here's an after shot of the first one, still spattered in the blood of its last victim. And you think I'm kidding?

I'm serious. They have what appear to be little tiny evil faces tucked inside their 5-6 groping, clutchy petals. If I ever woke up one night in a dimly lit room and "saw" their little mandibles grinding, I do believe I'd have a heart attack...but it would still come as no surprise.

This musing was brought on by the fact that I had a little stem with two on them tucked into a bud jar on my desk. One flower fell off. I felt bad, and looked at it closely.

I'm now missing an eye.

Well, not really, but looking more closely showed me the evil being piloting the orchid. I'm pretty sure it fell off because it was straining to nip at my elbow.

Sylvia Plath made Poppies grotesque...I'm calling orchids out as alien carnivores. I'm not saying they're not pretty...just that beauty is such an apt disguise -- a diversion to keep you from noticing the insidious little monster in the center.

Be warned.

Beyond Bonding

I have just been informed that my Mom and her Steve now drive the same car.


Hers (4 cylinder)...

His (blue, 6 cylinder)...

People, this goes beyond bonding. They already got His 'n' Hers dogs, now they have His 'n' Hers Highlanders -- what's next? His 'n' Hers houses?

Oh wait...riiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiight.

It's only a matter of time before they start wearing matching Hawaiian shirts, hats, and black knee socks on non-tropical vacations.

Not that they don't deserve the right to do that...but...but...

(Splutters, falls victim to saccharine-sourced aphasia...)

Wu Lou for you

Nearly every one in my immediate family has fallen prey to a recent illness -- be it crippling back pain, gastrointestinal adhesions, viral gastroentiritis, or involuntary incisions of the big toe. THAT'S IT PEOPLE: I'm feng shui-ing my website. May I present to you, Wu Lou, bringer of health, vitality and longevity. GAZING UPON THIS IMAGE MEANS YOU ARE NOW CURED.


Image provided by way of Dragon's Gate. I love their monthly alerts and all their merchandise -- if you're looking to feng shui, may I recommend them...

AAAARRRRRRGGGGGGHHHHHHH!!

As I recall, my friend Jack was the one who figured out* that if your store-bought coffee is leaking with no perceptible looseness in the cap, the culprit may be the seam of the cup, which, if perfectly oriented towards your mouth, will sometimes, under the pressure of all the coffee tipping towards your gullet, create a tiny airspace under the cap from which to leak.

As you can probably tell by the subject heading, this happened to me today.

However, while we're discussing coincidences, I submit to you the following:

1. I indulge in mochas sporatically.

2. I chose to wear a WHITE skirt today.

3. Said white skirt not only shows brown coffee stains in the starkest contrast of any other pants or skirts I own...

4. ...it also TURNS TRANSPARENT WHEN WATER IS APPLIED to clean it.

If you need me, I'll be rendered immobile behind my desk for the next hour, thank you very much.

*I very much wanted to cite the specific reference on Jack's website, House of Cheer. So I hit CTRL F "coffee" through each and every one of his monthly archives until I found it in March '04...that's 33 times for just one reference. Do me a favor -- at least GO and read what he wrote!! Click on the hotlink! He really explains it so very well...and consider yourself WARNED!!

Filed under Weird Coincidence number 44NM1A

Recently a coworker, K., joined my gym -- I gave her a guest pass when she was looking into where to join and she got hooked on their fun classes. For the last two months, I've been going regularly -- two or three times a week.

This week I went on Tuesday. Last night I had volleyball so I didn't go.

This morning my coworker caught me as I was walking in and handed me my gym card...which I didn't even know I was missing.

The gym's lockers are set up so that you insert your card on the inside of the specially-made lock and said insertion allows you to pull the key on the outside out of the lock when you close it. The locker is thus locked. When you return the key to the lock, the card is released for you to take home.

So here's the coincidence part: My coworker went to the gym last night, walked into the locker room, and somehow selected the exact same locker I'd used the night before -- where my card, which I must have forgotten to take out, was still sitting -- undisturbed -- 24 hours later. Either no one happened to use that locker until K. came in, or any one who did open it decided to leave the card there, without turning it in at the front desk or taking it themselves. And then K. just happened to walk in, choose that locker, and find it!!

What's more, I was going to go to the gym today but changed plans to go shopping with Leslie for a birthday present for another friend -- so if it weren't for K., I would have had NO idea where my card was come Monday.

Lucky Ducky!

May I present...me, if I were a character on South Park!


If you would like to do the same, go here and be sure to explore -- there's lots of options!

Eerie and evil...

A coworker of mine found this pic on the web and sent it to us. I apologize for not being able to credit its source (I tried a google search but didn't turn this one up).

It's a picture taken from someone's camera phone in the tube after the blast in London. It's simply haunting. It could be a still from a disaster flick or a zombie movie.

Dark. Smokey. Everyone is faceless, practically featureless. Yet clearly distinguishable as people, en masse.

The phrase, "what is this world coming to?" comes to mind...

London 7.7.05 by way of someone's camera phone.

Flying Saucer lands in Oakland!!!

Just kidding. It's actually the Good Year blimp. I was so amazed to see that the Good Year blimp can actually be seen "around" (especially in Oakland, of all places?) that I took a picture with my camera phone.

Of the course the zoom function is about as magnifying as one of my fingernails, but um, posterity doesn't care if the details are fuzzy, as we've all learned by now.

Now, prepare to be astounded...

...no really, go ahead...

...I'm waiting...

Blimp!

You're in the right place!!

I was attempting to configure my blog so that you can write comments.

Note the "Comment" link at the bottom of this post.

This way, if I launch into a cascade of profound questions or beg you to enlighten or entertain me, you now have a forum to. Keep in mind that other people can see your comments. ;o)

But then I saw that Blogger had updated their templates...and this one's all pretty...so I put in a little elbow grease and updated all around.

Hope you like it -- with the Comments enabled, you can tell me if you do!

Good afternoon, and happy day-after-independence-day to you all.

I had a lovely long weekend.

I played doubles volleyball on the grass in a park in Berkeley with Leslie and my old wesleyan men's vball pals. It's been a loooooooooong time and it felt great.

Steve and two of his friends and I checked out a pinball "arcade" in Alameda, if by "arcade" I mean "one man's private collection of approximately 14 pinball machines housed in the auxilliary room of his housing complex which he opens up to the public two nights a week with a $5 donation and then all the free pinball you can play, BYOB." It's decidely hipster but also quite fun, and free play means you can actually linger on any given machine until you get the hang of it without blowing $25 in quarters. And most of them are old and show depictions of the usual buxom women only they're completely covered up except for the occasional short 70's style mini-skirt dress. It was fun.

Steve's former coworkers also had a bonfire on ocean beach on Sunday night which we went to.
We were not the first people to think of this -- not only were there enough bonfires to resemble a small military encampment in the cannonballs and musket era, but we hit up three different Safeway supermarkets simply seeking jumbo marshmallows for S'more roasting purposes and they were completely sold out, and we only just barely stumbled on a fresh shipment of firewood in the last one, which was so fresh as to still be industrial-saran-wrapped to the pallet when we pounced. We also saw a lot of amateur beach fireworks that occasionally endangered surrounding clusters of beach-happy Fourthers, but for the most part just frightened the dogs. The Rottweiler simply went (by all appearances) in to a comatose state of "I'm going to die" depression by the fire; The German-Australian Shepherd mix barked his panic until we learned to cover his ears for the boomy ones, in which case I believe he rather began to enjoy the displays of light.

The actual Fourth, a.k.a. yesterday, we went out and got breakfast, and relaxed our vigorous weekend away for the rest of it. It was nice.

Today I'm back at work. It feels weird. I could get used to a four day work week...

hee hee, playing with photoshop is cool. 

Today is my birthday and I am feeling VERY loved.

My coworkers took me out to lunch. And then when they paid the bill, they came up with $5 extra after everyone chipped in and no one thought it was theirs, so they gave it to me!

I baked a cake and everyone ate it.

Then when I got back from lunch, two bouquets, one from Steve and one from CTDN, were on my desk. And then a THIRD one showed up from Mom and Steve.

I am SWAMPED with flowers.

I have a HUGE stack of presents sitting at home and a new dress to wear tonight that I bought yesterday.

15 people are coming over to our house tonight to do a happy birthday fondue potluck too.

I am just overWHELMED with good wishes. Thanks to my family and friends, I tend to have exactly the kind of birthdays that people wish you to have.

So I wanted to thank you all. I am so touched by how elaborately you celebrate my birth. Thank you.

I see London, I see France... 

It helps to have inner beauty when you're a transparent being... 

Lugubrious artsy exhibit... 

Traffic jam in the jelly world... 

Dragon-like plume o' jelly... 

Bombs away... 

Instead of taking my birthday day-off on Wednesday, I decided to take it this past Friday for the sake of a long weekend. Steve and I decided to go down to Monterey overnight -- we stayed at a holiday inn for free thanks to all the points I racked up through their priority club during my audit/travel job. It was right smack dab next to cannery row and the aquarium, so it was perfectly located.

Cannery Row was deserted when we got in on Friday, so after lunch at a diner (where I tried deep fried artichoke hearts with ranch dipping sauce -- delish) we wandered around. We hit up some free wine tastings (including one at the hotel, which we enjoyed over a crossword puzzle...ah, the good life) and later that night had a delicious lobster dinner on the wharf. It was advertised as Maine lobster, which gave us pause for a moment, until we realized that lobster is kept alive until cooked, so it would still be fresh. It's been quite some time since I've had a whole lobster and it was divine. I remembered the time that Mom, (her) Steve, Chad and I tackled some enormous lobsters Steve had brought home -- except they hadn't molted any time recently, so their shell was as thick as steel, and a slippery, aggravated wrestling match ensued in the heavy July heat -- we were all exhausted by the time we got through them!

Saturday a.m. we hit up the aquarium -- and not a moment too soon, when we had just about seen everything people were starting to pour in. They really did such a fabulous job with so many things, the otters and jelly fish especially were SO awesome. I also *loved* the open air aviary with all the sea birds, and the leopard sharks within it who were obsessed with the wave machine (they hung out by it and popped their heads up at it every now and then -- really cute). I can see why the aquarium is so reknowned, and all while maintaining the cannery facade. It's so rare to see an aquarium that isn't all angular glass and blue, so we were impressed.

One overnight was plenty, and on the way back up we detoured by the Santa Cruz boardwalk so I could see it -- a little less crowded it would be a LOT of fun. Seeing it was enough for me.

We stopped just outside of Santa Cruz in Davenport for a late lunch/early dinner -- and paid out the nose for it. It's a one horse town and the restaurant there charges $9 for a plain old burger!! But they had us pegged because we were starving, and the $11.95 Bacon Cheese Burger did come piled with bacon, cheese, and mushrooms -- and it was a big burger too.

See if we ever go back, though...

Yesterday was a lazy (and much warranted) day. This Wednesday is my birthday, and I'm having a fondue potluck -- I'm supplying the fondues and my guests will hopefully bring the dippers. Should be fun. Then Thursday marks Steve & my 1 year anniversary. Since we're living together, it seems like sooooo much longer than that -- a year hardly seems a big enough marker for all the ground we've covered. :)

Some jellyfish pictures to follow shortly. Hope you all had a wonderful weekend too, and thanks to all of you who've been shipping me birthday presents. I'm spoiled rotten and it's your fault!!

So I just got off the phone with Expedia and I feel compelled to add an addendum.
I called to verify that I would NOT get charged for the car I never got, and since I'd never given a credit card number or anything like that, I won't be charged. This is a huge relief. At the same time, it leads me to believe that without a credit card, one doesn't get one's car. So I will not be booking rental cars through expedia again -- not through their own "fault" technically, but because they can't guarantee it in the way a credit card can.

This leads me to believe that the problem was with advantage rent a car, and Joseph, the customer service rep whom I spoke to who was extraordinarily nice and pleasant, had nothing but nice things to say about them. I'm sure that maybe in another city without an event going on they're totally great. What Joseph emphasized is that they always go the extra mile to compensate for any issues -- not that they're dependable or reliable!! (Granted, he was speaking in direct response to what I was saying, but still, he didn't say, "well, that's odd!") I maintain my unwillingness to work with them again, simply by contrast with Hertz, who had the same event weekend and the same city to deal with but had numerous cars and was open 24 hours. I stand resolute.

But my ultimatum about expedia -- I'm going back to shades of grey with that one. I talked to them about not getting the type of room we'd reserved (without ever bringing up the price aspect, since I probably overpaid for the room I actually got, but for me it wasn't about the money, it was about the integrity of an expedia reservation). When I brought up the hotel experience with him, I was mostly asking him how their reservation process works, since both reservation experiences were so terrible. He said that they fax the reservation to the hotel, but pointed out that I had a "special need" because my plane got in so late, and I hadn't designated that. So I said, "you booked both the plane reservation and the hotel reservation, so I'm surprised that you don't communicate my arrival time to them automatically?" They don't. There's a space to fill in special requests and despite them having all the relevant information, they don't do so automatically. And what you fill out on that page is what gets sent to the hotel directly. Which is pretty annoying, and I was leaning towards not using them again...

But then he put me on hold to talk to his manager, and then put me on hold to talk to the hotel. When he was clear on everything, he gave me a $50 voucher towards a future hotel reservation through expedia for all my troubles, even though that's not what I was asking for hotel-wise, and even though it was technically (from their perspective) my fault for not (seeing? and/or) filling out the special needs box. People, this is just good business. Smart and helpful. (The manager at the Italian place could take a lesson!)

So, I will be booking a hotel one more time with expedia to use this voucher (within a year). Next time, I will be ever-so-obsessively formal about all "special" needs so that I know exactly what the hotel lays eyes on.

But what really put me back into the grey with Expedia is how nice Joseph was. He was very patient, he understood what I was asking, which indicated competence, and then he went past that to deal directly with the experience. Obviously, there's some expedia flow chart they use about how to deal with disgruntled customers, and he was following it. But it's still good business.

Joseph, you did an admirable job today. Expedia owes you a raise.

"Is that all there is? Is that all there is, my friends? Let's break out the booze and have a ball...if that's all...there is..."

Originally done by Peggy Lee, but I'm thinking of the Sandra Bernhardt version...if I could have a soundtrack to this blog entry, it would be this song!!

Originally titled:

I *HATE* SAN DIEGO...

...because San Diego hates me.

Seriously. I never thought one could have a city as one's mortal enemy. But Steve and I calculated it in the airport bar while waiting -- eagerly, desperately -- to go back to San Francisco, and this weekend was 83% disaster and 17% fun.

Let me give you the list. For those of you who can't stomach the extent of this list, skip to the "good things" in bold, and to the blue section, which talks about the marathon. For those of you who are into gawking at crime scenes, disaster movies, and books like the Odyssey, read on...

It all started after our (perfectly fine, full) flight to San Diego. Steve and I had found a sweet deal on a rental convertible through Advantage Rent A Car. We booked everything through expedia -- our flight, hotel, and car. I will never again use Expedia for the latter two, and I suggest you never do either -- their "reservations" don't count for anything. I also need to point out straight out the gates that I am not prone to these kinds of ultimatums, but such was the nature of this weekend.

As I was saying, we were at the SD airport, waiting patiently in the "courtesy vehicle" area for our shuttle to Advantage (who, by the way, I will also never use again). 45 minutes later we are conversing with a couple and another woman who had been waiting for an hour and half. It is 12:15am. The woman has been on the phone with them and they're supposed to have closed at 12am, so they're getting snippy. They say they've sent a shuttle by 4 times. Finally we see it go by -- in the wrong lane, which happens to be 3 behind us, so that we never saw it. (problem number 1. To Advantage -- TRAIN YOUR DRIVERS.) They also inform this lady on the phone that they are now (problem number 2) out of cars. Yes, we all made so-called "reservations" through expedia. We all have the print-out in our hands to prove it. Doesn't mean squat. At long last the courtesy vehicle pulls up in the proper lane and their peon gets out and gives up hand-typed letters from their manager that says they will reimburse us (problem number 3 -- they didn't even cover the cost up front. I consider this to be a to be continued, because lord knows if I will ever see that reimbursement from corporate headquarters) for the cost of renting from another company. They are ready to simply pull away. We insist that they can TAKE US to the car company of our choice, we are NOT waiting for still another shuttle.

They take us to Hertz -- we'd talked to the other drivers who endlessly pulled up while we waited for Advantage, and knew Hertz had cars. We walk in and two customer service people are helping two customers. The lady leaves, saying she'd rather just have her friend pick her up, she's too poor to pay double and wait for reimbursement. So there's the four of us, two couples, in line.

The customer service people finish up...and disappear into the back (problem number four). We four stand there in awe, because we are being completely ignored. Pins drop, crickets chirp. Finally their janitor who cleans their cars walk in, and hesitantly yells, "Uh, CUSTOMERS?" A woman blithely walks out ("oh hi,") to help the other couple. It is 12:45am by now. Steve and I immediately tell them that we're in the same situation, we want help too. The woman has Bob -- the selfsame janitor who hollered about us -- check us in. (Problem number five.) Bob does not know the prices and cannot advise us. He's very nice and simply rattles off everything they have available -- no convertibles left -- a jaguar, SUVs, minivans, that mustang outside but it needs to be cleaned, etc. We're aware that we're going to have to pay an arm and a leg for the jag or the unclean mustang, so we give up on a "fun" car and simply say, "what's your lowest cost car?" He wanders off to consult and finds a ford taurus for slightly less than the rate expedia quoted. We take it. By the morning light we see that this car is not clean either (problem number 6).

I will interject and say that Hertz, despite this rocky start, was actually one thing we counted as "good" on our trip. They were open 24 hours. When they finally dealt with us, they pulled out all the stops (and the janitors) to get us where we needed to be. They got us a good deal. And we showed up 30 minutes late when we returned it (more on that later) but they didn't charge us extra. So I will say, Hertz, as an overall experience and especially by comparison to advantage, was good thing #2. (good thing #1 being the flight in, to be fair.) And I would highly recommend Hertz, even though their online rates are usually a little higher, because obviously they can handle their business.

We find the hotel. We check in. We'd reserved a "deluxe room with a king sized bed" online. We get to our first floor room, it's a tiny room (one entire wall is mirrors, which not only tells you how hard they're trying to make it look bigger, but also alludes to the quality of occupants who usually get this room and the probable hourly duration of their stay) with two double beds with windows near the entrance to the bar/restaurant next door (problem number 7). It's 1:15am. I go back out and say, we reserved the deluxe room. The man says, "those online reservations only guarantee you a room, we get to pick what kind."

In the space of 2 hours, we had 7 things go wrong. I won't count Hertz as a good thing because we couldn't be sure then. But now you can see, I'm serious people -- ixnay on the expedia-ay. Just call the hotels and rental places yourself. Put a credit card and a deposit down. This middle-man stuff is a nightmare.

The next day started off well. I'd found a place to have brunch through an online guide and it was delicious -- enormous portions, inventive food, good service. We had such a great time we almost wanted to come back the next day and eat there again. So let me say, good thing #3 and MVP for the weekend: Hash House A Go Go. Awesome.

Then we went to the zoo. My triple A membership got us reduced tickets including rides on the sky tram. good item #4. We think we're getting our momentum back...

...as most of you know, I couldn't wait to see the hippo exhibit; I'd heard wonderous things about it. It's a display in which you can see the hippos underwater.

There was one hippo. He was perched on a rock in such a way that he could lift his head to breathe above water without having to move any other part of his body. And he didn't. Not for the whole half hour we sat there. Breathe, sit. Breathe, sit. He was a beauty and he seemed content, but it was absolutely boring (problem number 8) and made all my friends impatient to move on.

The rest of the zoo was nice -- no better nor worse than any other. It was a neutral experience -- we saw some great theatrics from the lemurs, but couldn't see the tiger at all. I saw my first pygmy hippo -- a smaller, rarer version than the others -- but he also napped contentedly and could easily have been a statue. The gorillas were playful, the pandas hid or slept. The leopard was gorgeous and got close to us but had had one paw amputated from a problem at another zoo, and thus was mildly depressing. The sky tram was pretty cool, but the zoo map was worthless. So on and so forth. Overall, the animals seemed content, so I would say the zoo was a good experience. But not the awesome one I'd heard about.

Our feet were tired so we all decided to head back to the hotel for a break before dinner. As it turns out, their pool is shallow and small (problem number 9) and their hot tub is too vigorous -- you can't lean back and relax because you get smacked in the face with water (problem number 10).

We head to an italian restaurant in the gaslamp district so that the two runners in the marathon tomorrow can load up on carbs. This was one of the biggest disasters of the trip. There was absolutely no parking (problem 11). When we finally parked in a garage blocks away and go to the restaurant, the service was slow (problem 12) because our waiter, who turned out to be the manager, was severely distracted. He kept running off, running past us, running back. The coup was that they ran out of bread (problem 13) -- or said they did -- because they then promptly served the people who came in behind us the "last three pieces" -- after lying to us about it first (problem 14) -- and then offering absolutely no compensation for it -- no dollar off, no free appetizer, no free dessert -- nothing. They didn't even come and talk to us about it -- one of us had to seek someone out and ask why the heck the table that came in after us got bread. The bottle of Chianti Steve and I ordered cost $38 and tasted like wet sock (problem 15). When they finally brought the food -- an hour and a half later -- the portions were small (problem 16). What italian restaurant do you know of that serves small portions? Especially on the eve of a marathon?? Most of the people at our table did not leave a tip -- had our waiter not been the manager, we still would have. But obviously he was incompetent, so we "ran out" of tip. I have never before seen or done this in my life.

We split up; 5 of us went to Ghirardelli for ice cream, because we were still hungry after our "dinner." I ordered a chocolate dipped waffle cone with a single scoop of rocky road.

They were out of chocolate dipped waffle cones. (Problem 17). I kid you not. I begged to go back to the hotel.

This was when Steve and I started to notice that our room was unusually hot and humid (problem 18). We'd had the fan on during the cool, overcast day, and yet our room was muggy. We did not try to have this solved. We knew by then that we were cursed.

Let me take a quick moment to add that while some of this stuff occurred for other people, it was mostly Steve and I who got the brunt. Leslie and James' flight was late, but they still got a great room (which she declined to tell us about so as not to enrage us, but I heard her say here and there that it overlooked the pool and had a fridge. I believe she did get her 'deluxe' room, though they tried to give her a smoking room at first). Laura and Julia, the two runners, were in a different hotel across the street that their marathon training team had reserved, and it was many more stars higher than ours -- central courtyard with a -- gasp -- big deep pool and a non-aggressive hot tub, polynesian theme, massages by the pool, huge bathrooms, etc. etc.

The next morning the 26.5 mile Rock 'N Roll marathon started at 6:30am. We agreed to line up to cheer on Laura and Julia at mile 12 at around 8:30am, which meant we'd be leaving our hotel at 7:45 am, and then taking the "trolley" to the finish line to wait for them there. I set the alarm for 7am. Woke up on time, showered, packed up to check out of our rooms, left the car in the parking lot. Looked at my phone -- it said 6:45am. What??

Our clock had been set an hour ahead (problem 19). It might have been when I set the alarm, it might have just been San Diego doing its thing. We'd actually gotten up at 6am. We had an hour to kill.

So we went to the Tickled Trout, the restaurant whose patrons kept us up at odd hours as they walked by. They opened, fortunately, at 6:30am, their service was reasonably priced, and the food was decent. Good thing number 5. But I will say, there was a problem (#20) -- the coffee was "just water dressed in brown," as Ani says. I stomached one cup and gave up.

Things are not looking good for the marathon and the public transportation ahead, but as it turns out, these are fine. We find mile 12, we spot Julia and then Laura, we cheer. We are able to get on the on-time trolley in one piece. The day is overcast and cool, perfect for running. We arrive at the finish line area, and find we have a half mile walk or a shuttle to take. Inspired by the running going on, we opt for the walk.

We hit problem #21 at the military base where they were housing the finish. Military base?? We have to go through a security checkpoint, meaning being wanded and bag-searched and all the indignities usually reserved for the airport. This is unexpected and annoying. Or rather, setbacks are expected, at this point, 21 problems into our list, but San Diego is getting more inventive.

We stand around for an hour and a half watching the runners go by. It's fine, we expected it. We stake out the last corner before the home stretch -- at about mile 25.8, and Leslie and I cheer our hearts out -- the position was particularly fun because we could yell "LAST TURN!! YOU'RE DOWN TO YARDS, GUYS!! HOME STRETCH!! YOU CAN SEE THE FINISH FROM HERE!! GOOD WORK!! DIG DEEP!!" -- and watch people's smiles of relief (those people, anyway, who could muster any further muscle work beyond 200 more yards of running). Julia ran by and finished at 4hours 50 minutes. Laura beat her last marathon time and came in at 5 hours 32 minutes, I believe.

At this moment I will make a digression to reward those of you who have read through my ranting this far. Watching a marathon is an unexpectedly beautiful and inspiring thing. 20,000 human beings challenged themselves to run 26 and a half miles -- through pain, mental exhaust, chafing, dehydration, loss of salt and nutrients, uphills, downhills -- and through, cheering, bands playing, cheerleaders, clapping, whistling, and people running alongside them to support them. (Leslie's boyfriend, James, and Laura planned ahead and he actually dropped in to the race with her at mile 19 to refresh her energy and pace and support her for the last 7 miles. He dropped out at 26 and let her finish the .5 on her own. We saw numerous people doing similar.) It choked me up when I first saw it and it chokes me up to write about it -- the first thing that hit me was the hopefulness of it, the sheer belief and willingness of it all. The second thing that hit me was the love -- the way it inspired the spectators and the runners, both of whom laughed, ran, cheered, smiled and half-way bounced when there was mutual observation of each other. Even though it was individual after individual running, it was an absolute mecca of community and teamwork. It was...beautiful, to say the least. And it was good thing # 6.

It did, however lead to problems number 22 and 23 -- sunburn (despite the overcast clouds and the sunblock I put on before I left the hotel, I still got burned) and severely sore feet from standing and walking around all day.

When we left Laura and Julia to collect all their freebies and catch their direct shuttle to their hotel, once again, public transportation held up its end of the bargain. We went back to mile 12 where we'd parked the car -- where people were still running, so moving -- stopped into the mall to replenish our nutrition, and then met up at Laura and Julia's hotel, since we'd checked out of ours. It was about 2:30pm, and we had to return the car at 5pm, so we took some much needed to time to chill out, reflect, and relax.

Finally, at 4:30, we headed out to retrieve and return the car. We'd given our map to Leslie to navigate for that day, but I had looked at it before she left to confirm our route back.

Problem # 24 -- detours. And problem #25 -- we got pretty darn lost and started running late. We tried calling Hertz's help line, but despite being an 800 number and despite Hertz humming with people when we got there, the help line was "closed" (problem #26). Steve and I were at each others' throats trying to wind our way back to Hertz. We asked directions but still couldn't find it. Finally we followed the signs to the airport and at last spotted the road with Hertz on it -- which we'd been on 20 minutes earlier but left due to confusing signs and bickering.

You'll notice I don't count Steve and I snarling at each other as a problem. No way. It was in direct reaction to the absolute ridiculousness of the situation. And we were divided, but not conquered. This was San Diego trying to destroy us, but we survived.

Only four more problems to go, people. Can you guess?

Problem #27. After all that, our flight was delayed an hour and 40 minutes, which meant a 2 1/4 hour wait. (incidentally, Leslie's flight was delayed too.)
Problem#28. We made up and gave up and decided to drink. A beer and a glass of wine cost us an exorbitant $15. At this point the spiritual burden of carrying around this many problems was too much to bear, so we decided to compile this list. Is that all there is? Is that all there is, my friiiiieeeeeennnnnnnnddddddsssss...
Problem #29. When we finally boarded, Steve's seat pocket in front of him was broken, and banged against his knees.
Problem #30. There was an emphatic port-a-potty smell for the first half hour on the plane. We either got used to it or it dissipated. My guess is it dissipated at roughly the same time as we flew out of the boundaries of San Diego.

As Steve and I walked toward the bart stop at SFO, we were nearly solemn with relief. We held hands and never looked behind us. But we did mention that we weren't positive that the curse might not have followed us to SF. There was discussion of an observation period and burning of sage if necessary.

We caught the bart, caught the muni, caught a cab, and got home. The house was intact and smelled good. We collapsed.

This morning I got myself a large mocha and set it on my desk when I first arrived at work...

...and it promptly fell over, spilled 4/5ths of its contents all over my desk, some in my keyboard and under my computer. I spent the first 45 minutes of work mopping, sopping, sponging, drying, sponging again, and drying anew.

When I get home, I'm breaking out the sage.

I can't believe tomorrow is June.

Had a nice memorial day weekend -- mostly relaxed, somewhat social -- caught up on errands and sleep on Saturday; Jules (my good friend from freshman year at Wes) was in town so I spent a large part of Sunday hanging out with her, which was an unexpected pleasure; Steve and I spent about an hour on Ocean Beach yesterday, sitting on the sea wall watching people and dogs and kites frolicking. We also did a drive by tour of the memorials in San Francisco, the legion of Honor, the WW1 and Holocaust memorials, the presidio and the military cemetery.

This weekend will mark my first trip to San Diego, to watch two of our friends participate in a marathon benefitting the leukemia & lymphoma society, and to finally check out the hippo exhibit at the zoo there. It will be a quick jaunt -- won't even interfere with work - but I'm looking forward to it.

Happy Memorial Day to my Dads and half-brother, Skip, and to all the other veterans I know.

Some of you may find the following post distasteful -- I apologize for that. But as it was a major moment for me, I'm using the blog to write about it. I believe most of you will be fine with what I'm about to discuss, but please know that I go into detail as I go along. That being said:

Yesterday about 10 of my coworkers and I went to the San Jose Coroner & Medical Examiner's (for brevity purposes, c/m.e.'s from now on) office for a standard orientation field trip. I was unable to go when I was actually new so I went this time around. For those of you pondering the link between organ donation and c/m.e.'s, it's that as soon as a person is declared dead under certain circumstances (any unnatural death -- accident, homicide, suicide -- or any death which occurred more than 20 days after a visit to an M.D. for a major medical problem) it is criminal to move or tamper with the body until the c/m.e. gets there or gives their express permission. They have to determine the cause (literally -- "lung disease," or "gun shot wound," etc.) and manner (natural, accidental, homicide, suicide or undetermined) so any intervention could seriously tamper with their investigation. Since nearly all brain death is from a sudden or traumatic death -- aneurysms, head trauma, asphyxiation, etc. -- this means nearly all of these patients have to go through a c/m.e. first. Thus it's good for us to have an understanding of them, and they of us.

And what an understanding we got.

I have now seen close up photographs of every type of death-causing wound one can think of -- gun shot, stabbing, blunt instrument, asphyxiation (whether self-imposed or homicidal), MVAs, burnings... I have seen examples of rigor mortis -- with discussion of its stages and the length of these stages; liver mortis or lividity -- when the blood in the body drains into whatever is the lowest part of the body after death because the heart has stopped pumping and gravity takes over -- and its stages and their lengths; early decomposition -- with bodies turning green, bloating, and sloughing off the skin, and the eyes sinking back in the head...I also saw the stages of an autopsy -- a photograph of the Y incision, a photograph before the removal of the chest plate, a photograph after the removal of the chest plate (where you could clearly see that the guy smoked somewhat -- his lungs were a little dark -- ate badly -- his heart was almost entirely encased in fatty tissue -- but didn't abuse alchohol -- his liver was still shiny and smooth), and a photograph after the removal of the organs. Apparently, when they're done dissecting your organs, they put them all in a garbage bag and then back in the chest cavity, as preparation to be sent to the funeral home for embalming. I wish more people knew this because those who are squeamish about organ removal and keeping the body 'whole' and who won't donate because of it might see things in a different light if they knew the body rarely, if ever, stays whole.

Some of it was reminiscent of some of the flashy stuff you see on CSI: a motorcyclist who'd been hit and run over, who had the tire mark of the offending car so plainly on his shirt that you could easily see the word "steel" -- such that a car in question's tires could be digitally photographed and matched via superimposing transparencies; a man with bludgeon lacerations on his head, one of which also plainly showed letters which ultimately matched to a brand name etched onto a wooded baseball bat; strange patterned head wounds that clearly match a framing hammer; conjunctival petechiae, or tiny ruptures under the lower eye lids which indicate that death was by strangling or other asphyxiation; the nature of a person's lividity showing that they were obviously lying on something lumpy such that if it wasn't still there, then the body must have been moved; determining whether a badly burned body inside a car had died by the force of the accident or by the fire by checking to see whether the throat was sooty deep down; using clay strips on a skull to slowly reconfigure the face to the point of creating a photograph to be sent to law enforcement agencies, such that a missing person can potentially be matched; and of the importance of gathering the skin "glove" from a decomposing corpse -- the skin sloughs off just like a snake's, and if you can gather the skin and keep it whole, you can get fingerprints for identification purposes;...and so on.

The real event, however, being that after seeing this power point, we then toured the facility.

And yes, there were bodies around. Nothing completely uncovered, but I definitely saw toes. Lots of dead toes. And in two cases where the coverings had slid off slightly, dead stomachs. They were mostly pale, and yellowish. (I was struck by how yellow the human body can be. We mostly see ourselves as red and white inside, but really, all our fat is yellow and it shows plainly when the red is gone.) And yes, there was a distinct smell -- not of rot or anything like that because the rooms we were in were either refrigerated and/or well ventilated, but an earthy, dusty smell. The closest I could come to relating it to Steve was those times when you are in traffic on the highway and you end up rolling slowly past road kill that has been thoroughly smashed and dessicated. There's no 'tang' to the smell, no rancor, just the earthy, dusty, odor of a fluid-less body.

I think the creepiest part was the pruning shears. Medical grade ones cost $300, so they were using your standard $30 ones...

Enough said, I think.

I have a continuing fascination (perhaps inherited from Mom) with the human body in all its gorey and glorious detail, so I wasn't at all traumatized...mostly just startled. I hadn't expected this trip to be so much about detail and so little about donation. I hadn't expected photographs and the tour and dead toes. But I'm glad I went. I know this much -- after seeing the effects of not wearing a seat belt, not using a child seat, and drunk driving, I'll be an even more careful driver.

Thanks for listening.