We’ve had a really good, really fun few days, but oh my god the late nights. I’m SO TIRED. On Thursday, we were up past midnight because Greg and Amanda and the kids were passing through on their way to Boston. We had a great time (and saw them again for an hour the next day before they left), but we didn’t go to bed until late and then the goddamn steam heat banged through the radiator at 3 in the morning, and we still worked on Friday. Friday night wasn’t too late, but Saturday night we met Dan (from high school with John) and Lindsay for dinner and didn’t get to bed until nearly 3am, and then we were awake by 8am Sunday morning (I don’t know why), and then we were on our feet all day at the Rhode Island Comic Con (which was way fun), and all I want to do is go to sleep. It’s not even 7:30 right now, but I feel like I’ve been up for days. I see an early bedtime in my future.
Our toaster oven has lost its ding. I don’t know exactly how old it is – it’s definitely not the one we got as a wedding present, but I can’t remember when we replaced it. Possibly as long ago as the Portsmouth house, which makes this toaster oven around 12-14 years old. I think that’s a reasonable life expectancy. Of course, I say that as if the fact that it doesn’t ding when the timer is done means it doesn’t toast bread. It still works! It just doesn’t cheerfully alert me when it’s done anymore, so I have to pay more attention to avoid cold toast. Life is hard.
I met John 20 years ago today, thanks entirely to Erik, who invited lowly freshman me to join his pack of 6 or 8 friends for a movie in Arlington. (Thanks, Erik!) And it’s only thanks to John, who kept his ticket stub, that we know the exact date. (Thanks, John!)
What movie? The Peacemaker, starring George Clooney and Nicole Kidman. Not a memorable movie, barely a memorable night (I remember John’s hat, I remember everyone waiting for the metro, I might remember one scene from the movie – something to do with a missile on the road in the mountains?), but it had lasting consequences, thank goodness.
Tonight, we’re going out to dinner (I don’t think George Clooney or Nicole Kidman have a movie in the theater right now), where we will try not to feel too old.
*To be fair, the soggy cake was not Ramada’s fault.
Neither of us slept last night, not more than a couple of hours. The bed was super uncomfortable, the kids didn’t leave the pool for at least an hour after we went to bed, some light (maybe from the A/C unit) was glowing too brightly, and I was fuh-REEZING. I can’t sleep when I’m shivering, there weren’t any extra blankets, and we were too tired to figure out the A/C plus it was mounted really high on the wall. We were both awake an hour before the alarm went off, awake enough that we just got up at 3:30 instead of waiting for it, and then our flight to Seattle was too short for napping (only 30 minutes in the air). We are going to crash so hard tonight.
So with the uncomfortable bed, the mildewy smell in the room, and a couple of other things, I think I have validated my resistance to Ramada hotels over the years. I mean, last night the price was right and obviously it was okay, but given a choice, I’ll choose something else.
The last time I can remember staying in a Ramada was for our first anniversary, 2001, in San Diego. John and I had just driven across the country for the first time, moving from Newport, RI to San Diego to get to my first ship. We didn’t have a place to live yet; the plan was to find an apartment within the first few days and stay in cheap hotels in the meantime. When we got there, we spent a night or two in a Motel 6 (where one night I got up around 3am and got in the shower because I thought it was morning), and then decided to splurge on the Ramada for our anniversary night.
Mom had packed the top layer of our wedding cake in dry ice for the cross-country trip. The dry ice lasted until we got to San Diego, and then we replaced it with regular ice for the last day or two. We realized that might have been a bad idea when we started to unwrap it in the hotel room. There was some dripping, and we moved to the bathroom sink.
First layer of aluminum foil: water from the ice. No big deal. Next layer of foil: more water. Next later of wax paper: water and a few crumbs. That’s when we started to worry. Next layer (foil or wax paper – can’t remember): more water, more crumbs. When we finally got to the actual cake it was pretty water-logged. The middle was still edible, but I can’t say it was good. Still – we ate it. I mean, not the whole thing, but enough to count.
What is it with people being loud in public spaces? I’ve written about loud yoga breathers and sighers before. Today, it was a girl in the gym, grunting like crazy while lifting weights and then WOO-ing and breathing loudly and heavily when she switched to the treadmill to run. I’m happy for her – she’s pushing herself hard and she seems to be enjoying it – but I couldn’t help but notice it and compare it to my own behavior. I spend a lot of time trying to make sure I’m not bothering anyone. I don’t want to notice other people most of the time, and I don’t want them to notice me. I assume that other people want the same thing, but maybe I’m wrong. Maybe these loud people want to be noticed, or maybe, and possibly more likely, they just don’t care.
But what’s that about? Is it carelessness? Callousness? “I don’t care about other people being comfortable, so I’m going to be loud and take up space.” Or is it self-confidence? “I am me, and I need to make these sounds and be obtrusive, and I’m not hurting anyone, and it’s okay with me if other people do the same thing.” She certainly wasn’t keeping me from my workout, and while it was a little distracting, it’s not like I need total silence to get anything done.
I sound like I’m complaining, but I’m really not. Yoga, talking through a movie, being loud in a library – those are different. Those are quiet spaces for everyone. When you’re at the gym, outside, in a store, at a mall, be loud, whatever. I’ll notice, and I may judge (in my head only), but I don’t really care. What’s to be bothered about? I just don’t understand it. I’m trying to think of times I’m cool with being loud in public.
- Roller coasters. I will scream my head off, on purpose, on a roller coaster.
- Concerts.* I sing and shout and WOO and whatever.
Honestly, I can’t think of any other public space where I’m comfortable just being LOUD and not trying to consider others. I’m not trying to say I’m super-considerate of others all the time. I’m just aware that other people are around, and I feel like I act that way. Most of the time. I have accidentally hit people while gesturing. I’m not so good at noticing when people are close behind me. So maybe I gesture loudly and I should just shut up now because I’m just like that girl in the gym. We are one.
*Of the rock variety, of course. Can you imagine? “WOOO! Brandenburg Concerto No. 3 in G major, BWV 1048: Allegro! WOOOOOO!!!”
I am SO VERY MUCH ENTIRELY TOO OLD for this late night crap. We didn’t stay for the whole show (we caught a few songs from the headlining band, but then we left), so we got home around 1am and still got up at 6. I don’t regret it – the Arkells were freakin’ amazing and we were right up against the stage and no, they didn’t pull John up on stage this time, but they didn’t do that bit at all, so it’s okay, and we got to have a nice conversation with the singer after the show, and MAN I love them. So I don’t regret it, but it’s 8pm on the day after, and my eyes are so tired they hurt. Hurts to close them, hurts to leave them open.
We met this trio of college girls, friends from high school, who have taken the week off to get together (they don’t go to the same schools) and follow the Arkells and Blossoms (the other band who played last night) from Portland to San Francisco to Coachella. They were hilariously excited.
Gotta go to bed. I think tomorrow might be harder than today was. Because I’m old.
I just remembered that we’re going to see the Arkells in April. They’ll be back in Portland opening for some band we’ve never heard of, and for $11 each, we’ll deal with a show for a band we’ve never heard of. Assuming we stay.
Anyway, I just remembered that, and April’s almost here, and it makes me happy because we REALLY like them.
I am sore and tired and sore and tired and sore and tired and can I have another day off please? Yesterday’s workout caught up to me this morning. I was going to go to a 9:15 yoga class this morning, but I could barely lift my arms over my head and that would have made yoga difficult. Also, any balancing would have been just impossible because I’m SO TIRED I can’t see straight. John had a gig last night, and it went late, and then it went later, and then they finally took the stage, and then it was even later because Daylight Saving Time started last night, so it was 3:30 in the morning before I crawled into bed. Stupid spring forward. Yoga at 9:15 didn’t have a chance.
So it’s 8:15 on a Sunday night, which technically should feel like 7:15 on a Sunday night, but as far as I’m concerned it feels like midnight on a Sunday night and I really need to be sleeping.
I saw two little birds taking a bath in a puddle today. It was adorable, of course, the way they hunker down and fluff up and shake all over. I could watch for hours.
Not so cute are the squirrels digging up our yard. It’s like we have dogs, only the holes are a little bit smaller. I don’t know if they’re burying something or digging something up, but they’re ruining the sod in the backyard. I don’t care so much for myself, but the landlords put fresh sod down right before we moved in. They’ll probably notice if the yard is destroyed when we move out, and I don’t want to be responsible for replacing it.
Damn squirrels. Get off my lawn!
Time is flying by every day (except for certain hours here and there that drag on forever), the work week is gone when I blink, the weekend totally disappears every week, and how on earth is it October TOMORROW? We’ve been in Oregon six months now, and it feels like two weeks.
This is another sign I’m getting old, isn’t it?
I was only disappointed by one thing at Disney World – we missed the Main Street Electrical Parade. They don’t do it every night anymore (and they didn’t do it the nights we were at the Magic Kingdom), and they’re moving it to only Disneyland after October 9th this year (thank you, Brian, for breaking the news to us). There’s a Fantasyland parade they do every day at 3pm, but it’s not the same. First of all, it’s at 3pm. Second of all, it’s mostly princesses and not much else (from what I remember, anyway). I mean, I liked it, and the mechanical Maleficent-as-dragon is pretty darn cool, but nothing can replace the Main Street Electrical Parade.
Oh no! I just looked it up, and it’s only going to Disneyland for a “limited-time encore engagement.” What the hell, Disney? You can’t retire that parade! Maybe there’s a petition I can sign.
John and I took Friday off work because we knew we’d be out really late Thursday night. We ended up getting home around midnight, but until the Night Vale show ended, we didn’t know if we’d be spending the night in Portland or driving home. Either way, work at 6am Friday morning would have been difficult.
You’d think, with a day off like that, that we’d spend it relaxing or doing something fun, but you’d be wrong. We did sleep in a bit, and then we went to gym, but THEN, oh then – we cleaned. We cleaned like our parents were coming to visit. We started upstairs and worked our way down, room by room, windows, surfaces, floors, with a break from cleaning to hang a few pictures (the goat, the sign with our name on it, the comic book posters), and then back to cleaning. We finished at 5pm, just in time to shower, have dinner, and then send John off to rehearsal tonight (8pm to 11pm – I will be sound asleep when he comes home).
Fun day off! Still, the house looks great. I always forget how much easier it is for us to relax when everything is clean. I don’t notice the tension of the dirty house until it’s gone.
It’s been six years (SIX YEARS) since my last post like this. Back in May 2010, I was in Boston for work, and I tried my hand at selfies. I was using an actual camera, not a phone, and it didn’t have a forward-facing camera, and it was hard. See attempts here.
Now, six years later, selfies are more of a thing than ever, I have a front-facing camera, and I still can’t do it (god, I’m old). All I was trying to do last Saturday was take pictures of pretty scenery with my smiling face in front. (Yes, I could have asked John to take the pictures. NOT THE POINT.) How do people do this?
Okay, a couple were semi-successful. Here’s one from today with RAINBOWS.
And hair in my face. And no smiling.
I don’t know a lot of things, obviously, and that will always be the case because who can ever know everything? But I think that if I learn something, or someone explains something to me, I’m capable of understanding it. I feel like that should be true of EVERYTHING. I’m intelligent and curious. Tell me, and I’ll understand.
There are exceptions.
Things/actions I don’t understand:
- People who wear make-up to work out
- People who wear perfume/cologne to work out
- People who don’t wave/nod/smile/say good morning back
- Acquiring a taste for something
- People who cut in line (there are some exceptions, but they require explanations and politeness)
- Dog-walkers who don’t clean up after their dogs
- Drivers who don’t use their turn signals
This may be Part 1 of an ongoing series, but for now, those are the big ones.
This morning, I noticed a friendly little duck hanging out on the edge of our shower.
John spent some time working on his car last weekend and got grease and grime under his fingernails for the first time in months, so he dug out the cute little nail brushes with ducks on top that we got as stocking stuffers last Christmas. I had completely forgotten about them, but how cute is that little guy? The other one is pink.
Makes me think I should get a rubber ducky or two for my bathtub in Oregon.
Apparently, millenials don’t eat cereal because they can’t be bothered to put the bowl in the dishwasher. Seriously. I don’t eat a lot of cereal, either, but that’s because the cereal I want to eat (Cocoa Puffs, Golden Grahams, etc) is SO bad for me. (It might not be that bad in normal serving sizes, but I don’t eat Cocoa Puffs in normal serving sizes.) It’s definitely not about the dishes, and that’s coming from a person who doesn’t even use a dishwasher anymore. We figured that since we only have a set of 4 dishes (4 bowls, 4 plates, 4 spoons, etc.), we’ll just wash our dishes by hand. If we waited to fill a dishwasher, we’d run out of dishes and it STILL wouldn’t be full.
Of course, I’m not a millenial, so that article doesn’t apply to me, but come ON! Wash a bowl.
Have I ever sounded older and grumpier than I do right now? Get off my lawn!