this is my new project...
and when i say it's my new project, i mean- will someone please please make this for me? i found it here, at Apartment Therapy. yummmm. OH NO, i just realized this does make me creepy bird lady. more soon! (promise)
Friday, August 15, 2008
awkward hello
it's been a while. i have no excuse, i know. no WAIT, i have every excuse. i'm a working woman, damnit. training's been really intense here at the big G, but i'm loving the people, and of course, the perks. i mean, i'm getting quite good at playing The Rolling Stones on Rock Band, turns out drumming is my calling.
this is my new project...
and when i say it's my new project, i mean- will someone please please make this for me? i found it here, at Apartment Therapy. yummmm. OH NO, i just realized this does make me creepy bird lady. more soon! (promise)
this is my new project...
and when i say it's my new project, i mean- will someone please please make this for me? i found it here, at Apartment Therapy. yummmm. OH NO, i just realized this does make me creepy bird lady. more soon! (promise)
Friday, July 18, 2008
margaritaville revisited
why hello there,
saw mamma mia: 11:25am showing equals i was the only one not cashing in on the Senior Citizen discount. i'm learning a LOT about senior living, and well, BRING IT ON.
had In-N-Out Burger for lunch. and a milkshake, obvi. which we decided was fat free beacuse the extreme thickness meant serious straw suction was required. which counts as working out. done and done.
dreamt about this for my new place, but realize my recent purchasing history means i risk soon becoming crazy bird lady. like from mary poppins.
BACK to Costco for another margaritaville machine [owner experienced malfunctions], and then home again for Test Run of the new beast.
this thing should come with a breathalyzer.
i think Hostess Pat can drink me under the table.
got to hear great stories about how the Fighting Neighbors (who verbally sparred each other in the yard both this morning and during dinner) are so kind to each other that Pat actually thought the man's name was "Tucker!" for years. His real name, she came to find, is Julian.
Craigslisted all evening, in preparation for apartment perusing in the cit-ay tomorrow. i'm enjoying living in los altos, but feel like i'm missing out on getting familiar with the city.
stace is FINALLY in town, hoo-ah!
looking forward to saturday night: san fran edition.
until then... feed the birds, toppins, toppins a bag...
saw mamma mia: 11:25am showing equals i was the only one not cashing in on the Senior Citizen discount. i'm learning a LOT about senior living, and well, BRING IT ON.
had In-N-Out Burger for lunch. and a milkshake, obvi. which we decided was fat free beacuse the extreme thickness meant serious straw suction was required. which counts as working out. done and done.
dreamt about this for my new place, but realize my recent purchasing history means i risk soon becoming crazy bird lady. like from mary poppins.
BACK to Costco for another margaritaville machine [owner experienced malfunctions], and then home again for Test Run of the new beast.
this thing should come with a breathalyzer.
i think Hostess Pat can drink me under the table.
got to hear great stories about how the Fighting Neighbors (who verbally sparred each other in the yard both this morning and during dinner) are so kind to each other that Pat actually thought the man's name was "Tucker!" for years. His real name, she came to find, is Julian.
Craigslisted all evening, in preparation for apartment perusing in the cit-ay tomorrow. i'm enjoying living in los altos, but feel like i'm missing out on getting familiar with the city.
stace is FINALLY in town, hoo-ah!
looking forward to saturday night: san fran edition.
until then... feed the birds, toppins, toppins a bag...
Thursday, July 17, 2008
day two
i'm afraid to tell you what i did today. because if my family reads this, they will surely have the same reaction my youngest sister, andrea, had. which was hysterical fits of laughter. not the good, dang you're witty kind but the mocking, laughing AT you kind. but i'm willing to take one for the team, so here goes:
after a short coma, i woke up late and made my way onto the back porch for some fresh, backyard-picked oranges and the kind of cereal that only grandparents are allowed to buy. the kind that sends you to the little boys room every 5 minutes for the rest of the day. 80 degrees. no humidity. no deadlines or to-do lists. basically, the ultimate morning. especially considering i was raised to believe humidity was a fact of life. this, friends, is just NOT TRUE. my mother vehemently argues that she likes her heat with a whopping dollop of sludge and sweat. but, let's be honest here, mom, the "glistening" cleavage only looks sexy when it's not accompanied by pit stains and, as i believed meaghan calls it: swass. which is short for sweaty "butt".
visiting the city a month ago was the gateway drug. i think now, after two whole days, it's safe to say i'm hooked. turns out, after 22 years of jungle-living, my natural hairstyle is NOT in fact an afro! however, i think i had learned to work with the 'fro, and am now back to square one. which is to say, clueless about how to handle the mane. which further exacerbates the issue of no friends.
anyway, after breaking the fast, i strapped on my tennies and did the unthinkable: i mowed the "grass." NOTE: i must clarify, because this summer my family actually all gathered round to watch me ride the tractor, due to my less than stellar driving abilities. there may have been cameras and crying and serious injuries to 100-foot oak trees. riding mowers are NOT as easy as they look, people. and backwards in circles at full speed is something that should not be attempted at home. especially if you're not wearing a sports bra. but, family, let me tell you: I MOWED IT. mowed it GOOD. every little strand. if that's what they're called. and "grass" is to be put in quotations because i'm not sure about the whole west coast vegetation thang, it's all very prehistoric and jumanji looking, like it probably comes alive at night and would grab you by the ankle.
later, my hostess with the most-ess and i went over to costco to retrieve a special birthday surprise from my parents. and surprised i was. and celebrate we did! Pat the Hostess and I located the beast and then proceded to load up, in true Costco style, with TANKS of tequila, triple sec, pina colada mix, margarita mix, rum, and all the fixin's (including this). this thing is a MAMMOTH; if you'll note in the picture, the blender part is only about 1/3 of the size of the actual machine. i might have to charge the thing rent. however, i know my parents' rationale, and that is that i have no friends and at least i'll get the invite because i bring the party. thanks, 'rents.
then, headed home for a Test Run...After circling the free samples like ravenous vultures, of course. in retrospect, it seems questionable to anxiously wait in line 6 minutes only to get an 1/8th of a nuked corndog, but i have my full support behind any establishment that sells 400 packs of cream puffs and 8 pound blocks of cheddar. oh, america, you are too wonderful.
VERDICT: day two was emotionally stable enough that i could rest in Los Altos instead of scurrying all the way into SF Proper to emotionally eat/shop. baby steps, baby steps. i'm so incredibly grateful to Hostess Pat the opportunity to get to know her and to veg. Los Altos was gloriously converted to Margaritaville, and trashy country music reigned supreme. tomorrow morning we're going to see the opening day of "Mamma Mia!" and she promises we'll dance in the aisles. i may just have to bring the new appliance with us.
after a short coma, i woke up late and made my way onto the back porch for some fresh, backyard-picked oranges and the kind of cereal that only grandparents are allowed to buy. the kind that sends you to the little boys room every 5 minutes for the rest of the day. 80 degrees. no humidity. no deadlines or to-do lists. basically, the ultimate morning. especially considering i was raised to believe humidity was a fact of life. this, friends, is just NOT TRUE. my mother vehemently argues that she likes her heat with a whopping dollop of sludge and sweat. but, let's be honest here, mom, the "glistening" cleavage only looks sexy when it's not accompanied by pit stains and, as i believed meaghan calls it: swass. which is short for sweaty "butt".
visiting the city a month ago was the gateway drug. i think now, after two whole days, it's safe to say i'm hooked. turns out, after 22 years of jungle-living, my natural hairstyle is NOT in fact an afro! however, i think i had learned to work with the 'fro, and am now back to square one. which is to say, clueless about how to handle the mane. which further exacerbates the issue of no friends.
anyway, after breaking the fast, i strapped on my tennies and did the unthinkable: i mowed the "grass." NOTE: i must clarify, because this summer my family actually all gathered round to watch me ride the tractor, due to my less than stellar driving abilities. there may have been cameras and crying and serious injuries to 100-foot oak trees. riding mowers are NOT as easy as they look, people. and backwards in circles at full speed is something that should not be attempted at home. especially if you're not wearing a sports bra. but, family, let me tell you: I MOWED IT. mowed it GOOD. every little strand. if that's what they're called. and "grass" is to be put in quotations because i'm not sure about the whole west coast vegetation thang, it's all very prehistoric and jumanji looking, like it probably comes alive at night and would grab you by the ankle.
later, my hostess with the most-ess and i went over to costco to retrieve a special birthday surprise from my parents. and surprised i was. and celebrate we did! Pat the Hostess and I located the beast and then proceded to load up, in true Costco style, with TANKS of tequila, triple sec, pina colada mix, margarita mix, rum, and all the fixin's (including this). this thing is a MAMMOTH; if you'll note in the picture, the blender part is only about 1/3 of the size of the actual machine. i might have to charge the thing rent. however, i know my parents' rationale, and that is that i have no friends and at least i'll get the invite because i bring the party. thanks, 'rents.
then, headed home for a Test Run...After circling the free samples like ravenous vultures, of course. in retrospect, it seems questionable to anxiously wait in line 6 minutes only to get an 1/8th of a nuked corndog, but i have my full support behind any establishment that sells 400 packs of cream puffs and 8 pound blocks of cheddar. oh, america, you are too wonderful.
VERDICT: day two was emotionally stable enough that i could rest in Los Altos instead of scurrying all the way into SF Proper to emotionally eat/shop. baby steps, baby steps. i'm so incredibly grateful to Hostess Pat the opportunity to get to know her and to veg. Los Altos was gloriously converted to Margaritaville, and trashy country music reigned supreme. tomorrow morning we're going to see the opening day of "Mamma Mia!" and she promises we'll dance in the aisles. i may just have to bring the new appliance with us.
Wednesday, July 16, 2008
day one
but first... yesterday:
-sprinting! full speed ahead, circa 36 miles through the Philadelphia airport with my strapless dress falling around my waist, flinging bags and elbowing elderly people to the ground in order to catch my flight. in heels, people. in heels.
-fiiiiiiiiiiinally, i made it down the jetway and stepped onto that precious jumbo jet, completely out of breath and blue in the face, arms shaking from the stress and incredible speed. only to look up and see 200 seated passengers staring up at me. why helllllllo, social anxiety. i then squeezed (squoze?) my fat bag/ass down the aisle to seat 12F. why does maneuvering down that aisle feel like being birthed? hands/body shaking too hard for me to even lift my sorry bag into the overhead compartment. blessed stranger gets up and helps me. realize i have the window seat so force the row-mates to get out of their seats for the Crazy Late Runner Girl Who's Panting and Might Dry Heave and Can't Lift Her Bag and Is Maybe On Narcotics She's Such a Mess. Finally, I plop into my seat. Love ya, 12F! i then scope out the scene, taking note of the 2 year old to the left of the aisle. potential for a tantrum over the course of the next six hours: High/ Extremely High. i also note non-English speaking, german-book-reading girl next to me. who is buffering me from adorable twentysomething male on the aisle seat. brief interactions ensue...this could be a fun ride. but alas, i'm still shaking and a hot mess. yes, please, i'll have a vodka cranberry. reaching over Frauline Maria to my left and over Cute Aisle Sitter to retrieve my cocktail from the flight attendant, hands still a bit shaky, i proceed to DUMP entire drink on the shoulder, chest, and pants of my once-potential crush. i offer my t-shirt, he's not impressed. okay, he's a little impressed. but still, i decide i've wrought enough havoc on the world and don't deserve to talk to any humans, let alone men, for at least the rest of the day. i land in san francisco, where my fabulous hostess meets me, feeds me, and sends me to bed, delirious from the time change and at the fact that i'm allowed in public.
and now, today: DAY ONE! woke up, realized i accidentally moved across the country and have nothing to do and no friends. minor freak out. decided to make the trek from here in Los Altos (which is near where I'll be working), into San Francisco. took the train- which of COURSE i had to sprint to. really, why do i wear heels? met my fellow vandy grad and penpal jeanna, who hosted me and reassured me that at least i have one friend. even if she mostly just feels bad for me. we meant to eat lunch, but SERIOUSLY how can you do that when you're passing a monstrous H&M, Urban Outfitters, and then a THREE story Forever 21?! it's like new york city. but without the part where someone mugs you and leaves you for dead. as jeanna is also a recent transplant, we ended up wandering for miles, and stumbled a gorgeous farmers' market outside the beautiful city hall. (shout out to britta for calling SF her european city.) looking for a place that didn't just sell donuts. yes, donuts. either there's a HUGE market for donuts here, or maybe it's vietnamese for "restaurant." regardless, the only food we could find was donuts. i should note that we were in the supposedly sketchiest part of town, known as The Tenderloin/Little Saigon. we left our glocks at home, and shouldn't really have been cruising here for food. but we did find an "oasis of cute", if you will, at a little vietnamese joint called mangosteen, which was cheap and oh-so-tasty and, importantly: served massive portions. done and done. also, i formally approved jeanna as a Friend because she cleaned her respectably sized plate. after OOPS more shopping, we parted ways.
i then made the trek uptown to the Nob Hill area to meet some new friends I'll be starting work with this coming Monday. we hung out in their charming apartment on beautiful, tree-lined Hyde St. and they repeatedly mentioned drinking bailey's, but not in reference to Old Gregg, and i have a lot of problems with this. staright face? impossible. randomly asking them "whatcha doin' in these waters?": irresistable. had a warm nutella crepe here, in homage to my study abroad days in Siena, Italy, where i had one every hour or so. oh heyyyy, elastic waistbands! after losing my phone and wandering like a lost puppy for a couple hundred miles, i found my way back to the apartment of my new friends, where i had brilliantly left my phone. this resulted in yet another sprinting-to-catch-the-bus-which-i-rode-until-i-sprinted-to-catch-the-8:30-train. the bus stopped near the train station at 8:31. i saw the train still at the platform and with a quick prayer, sprinted across the busy intersection toward the train station. the conductor was yelling "we got one more!" and yelled GO GO GO like a seasoned 3rd base coach as i rounded the corner and dove onto the train. phew! a speedy train ride home, jamming to dean martin on my ghetto walkman, and home again home again to los altos.
VERDICT:
-san francisco is not quite home.
-but i never expected the shopping to be so glorious, or the weather to be so cold. (i know, i know, everyone told me, but i didn't believe them. 3 cheers for license to purchase new jacket and scarf. which i did.)
-i'm overwhelmed, but thrilled to begin to explore all the neighborhoods i only glimpsed in passing. i still have no doubts about taking this job and moving so very far away. the anticipation of the good and bad things awaiting me here just floods me. i can't wait to start work next week. i can't wait to settle down and move into a new place.
-but i also want to be able to fully live here in the uncertainty of who i'll know and love, where i'll live, and what i'll be doing. i don't want to spend these days only in anticipation of what's to come. joy and grace and peace are only in this moment, and i'll be damned if i'll waste it waiting for another one.
much love from the city by the bay!
in closing, some words from, well, the moon:
thanks for stoppping by.
-sprinting! full speed ahead, circa 36 miles through the Philadelphia airport with my strapless dress falling around my waist, flinging bags and elbowing elderly people to the ground in order to catch my flight. in heels, people. in heels.
-fiiiiiiiiiiinally, i made it down the jetway and stepped onto that precious jumbo jet, completely out of breath and blue in the face, arms shaking from the stress and incredible speed. only to look up and see 200 seated passengers staring up at me. why helllllllo, social anxiety. i then squeezed (squoze?) my fat bag/ass down the aisle to seat 12F. why does maneuvering down that aisle feel like being birthed? hands/body shaking too hard for me to even lift my sorry bag into the overhead compartment. blessed stranger gets up and helps me. realize i have the window seat so force the row-mates to get out of their seats for the Crazy Late Runner Girl Who's Panting and Might Dry Heave and Can't Lift Her Bag and Is Maybe On Narcotics She's Such a Mess. Finally, I plop into my seat. Love ya, 12F! i then scope out the scene, taking note of the 2 year old to the left of the aisle. potential for a tantrum over the course of the next six hours: High/ Extremely High. i also note non-English speaking, german-book-reading girl next to me. who is buffering me from adorable twentysomething male on the aisle seat. brief interactions ensue...this could be a fun ride. but alas, i'm still shaking and a hot mess. yes, please, i'll have a vodka cranberry. reaching over Frauline Maria to my left and over Cute Aisle Sitter to retrieve my cocktail from the flight attendant, hands still a bit shaky, i proceed to DUMP entire drink on the shoulder, chest, and pants of my once-potential crush. i offer my t-shirt, he's not impressed. okay, he's a little impressed. but still, i decide i've wrought enough havoc on the world and don't deserve to talk to any humans, let alone men, for at least the rest of the day. i land in san francisco, where my fabulous hostess meets me, feeds me, and sends me to bed, delirious from the time change and at the fact that i'm allowed in public.
and now, today: DAY ONE! woke up, realized i accidentally moved across the country and have nothing to do and no friends. minor freak out. decided to make the trek from here in Los Altos (which is near where I'll be working), into San Francisco. took the train- which of COURSE i had to sprint to. really, why do i wear heels? met my fellow vandy grad and penpal jeanna, who hosted me and reassured me that at least i have one friend. even if she mostly just feels bad for me. we meant to eat lunch, but SERIOUSLY how can you do that when you're passing a monstrous H&M, Urban Outfitters, and then a THREE story Forever 21?! it's like new york city. but without the part where someone mugs you and leaves you for dead. as jeanna is also a recent transplant, we ended up wandering for miles, and stumbled a gorgeous farmers' market outside the beautiful city hall. (shout out to britta for calling SF her european city.) looking for a place that didn't just sell donuts. yes, donuts. either there's a HUGE market for donuts here, or maybe it's vietnamese for "restaurant." regardless, the only food we could find was donuts. i should note that we were in the supposedly sketchiest part of town, known as The Tenderloin/Little Saigon. we left our glocks at home, and shouldn't really have been cruising here for food. but we did find an "oasis of cute", if you will, at a little vietnamese joint called mangosteen, which was cheap and oh-so-tasty and, importantly: served massive portions. done and done. also, i formally approved jeanna as a Friend because she cleaned her respectably sized plate. after OOPS more shopping, we parted ways.
i then made the trek uptown to the Nob Hill area to meet some new friends I'll be starting work with this coming Monday. we hung out in their charming apartment on beautiful, tree-lined Hyde St. and they repeatedly mentioned drinking bailey's, but not in reference to Old Gregg, and i have a lot of problems with this. staright face? impossible. randomly asking them "whatcha doin' in these waters?": irresistable. had a warm nutella crepe here, in homage to my study abroad days in Siena, Italy, where i had one every hour or so. oh heyyyy, elastic waistbands! after losing my phone and wandering like a lost puppy for a couple hundred miles, i found my way back to the apartment of my new friends, where i had brilliantly left my phone. this resulted in yet another sprinting-to-catch-the-bus-which-i-rode-until-i-sprinted-to-catch-the-8:30-train. the bus stopped near the train station at 8:31. i saw the train still at the platform and with a quick prayer, sprinted across the busy intersection toward the train station. the conductor was yelling "we got one more!" and yelled GO GO GO like a seasoned 3rd base coach as i rounded the corner and dove onto the train. phew! a speedy train ride home, jamming to dean martin on my ghetto walkman, and home again home again to los altos.
VERDICT:
-san francisco is not quite home.
-but i never expected the shopping to be so glorious, or the weather to be so cold. (i know, i know, everyone told me, but i didn't believe them. 3 cheers for license to purchase new jacket and scarf. which i did.)
-i'm overwhelmed, but thrilled to begin to explore all the neighborhoods i only glimpsed in passing. i still have no doubts about taking this job and moving so very far away. the anticipation of the good and bad things awaiting me here just floods me. i can't wait to start work next week. i can't wait to settle down and move into a new place.
-but i also want to be able to fully live here in the uncertainty of who i'll know and love, where i'll live, and what i'll be doing. i don't want to spend these days only in anticipation of what's to come. joy and grace and peace are only in this moment, and i'll be damned if i'll waste it waiting for another one.
much love from the city by the bay!
in closing, some words from, well, the moon:
When you are the moon, there is a person people say is the sun. I saw the sun once, and he came past me, really fast. And it was an, it was called, the, an eclipse. And he came fast! But as he came past, I, I licked his back. [the mighty boosh]
thanks for stoppping by.
Monday, July 14, 2008
a little blog is born.
this entry is the cyber equivalent of the doctor dangling the little guy by the feet and smacking the him on the back. welcome to the world, little one.
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