I heard Chris Isaak’s “Wicked Game” on the radio today. I’ve always liked the song (video at the end, if you need it), but since that one Friends episode, I can’t help but laugh when he does his signature vocal move.
I like the way she laughs at him.
Also, I’m totally jealous of his eyebrow raise. I can’t do that.
Here’s the song. If you’re familiar with it, you know what I’m talking about. If you’re not, he does it on the chorus, first time at 0:52 in the video.
I went to a potluck Sunday afternoon, but up until Saturday, I was a complete loss as to what to bring. I would normally aim for dessert, or cheese and crackers, or chips and salsa, but people had already claimed those (and LOTS of people were bringing dessert). I wanted to bring real food and somehow still avoid any real cooking. Guess what’s helpful when you find yourself in this kind of predicament? GOOGLE. Who knew?
So I googled “potluck ideas” and I landed on this Appetizer Tortilla Pinwheels thing. Guys, these are SO GOOD. Cream cheese, sour cream, cheese, green chiles, scallions, a little garlic, all wrapped in a tortilla and sliced into bite-size pieces – HEAVEN. I left out the olives (because gross) and doubled the cheese (because duh), and I want to eat them all day, every day.
But aside from this delicious discovery, I don’t like potlucks. Too much pressure. Like, if you end up having to take your food back home, you failed. Plus you end up tasting other people’s mystery dishes (because nothing is EVER labeled) and what if you got something awful you can’t finish and it turns out you’re sitting next to the person who made it? Better choke it all down – you never know who you might offend. And I live in Eugene, which means that fully a third of the dishes were vegan. Non-dairy cheese is NOT CHEESE, PEOPLE.
I have just had the BEST afternoon. To start, it’s a beautiful spring day. John is in the recording studio with his band, hopefully having a good time. I went for a run right after he left. Temps were in the low 50s, and I did a respectable distance at a respectable pace. Lovely scenery, which I was able to enjoy because I wasn’t pushing myself, and I found purple flowers blooming and I was listening to a fascinating podcast – all good. I came home and made tortilla pinwheels for tomorrow’s SWV NOW potluck: cream cheese, sour cream, shredded cheese, green chiles, green onions, and a little garlic. SO GOOD. And so done and ready for tomorrow.
Run: good, chore: done. Let’s not forget it’s Derby Day, so after I showered, I went to Steelhead to watch the race. They had NBC coverage on half the TVs, but they told me they only turn the sound up for Oregon Ducks games, so I left. Next stop was a sports bar a couple of blocks away that I’ve never been to. It was practically empty, and the bartender changed the channel to the Derby on four or five TVs and turned the sound up, and I was happy.
They were out of mint, so I ordered champagne. Corey said I should go fancy and order a French 75, but this place was decidedly not fancy. I didn’t chance it.
Me and my champagne
I had a wonderful time watching the race while texting with Mel and Corey (and Christine by proxy). My horse (McCraken, chosen because he was the prettiest) didn’t win, but that’s true every year.
Text conversation with John:
Me: My horse did not win.
Him: To be fair, Tigger wasn’t in the race.
I left the bar after the lady with the antenna on her helmet interviewed the winning jockey while riding alongside and cut through 5th Street Market with a vague idea of buying myself a rose from Rhythm and Blooms. They didn’t have any roses (out – I’m sure they have roses), so I kept walking and hey, there was a wine tasting table set up. Wine tastings always appeal to me, but especially after two glasses of champagne, so I stopped, tried the wine, LOVED the zinfandel (which I bought), and had a nice conversation about running with the woman in charge of the tasting.
It’s still a beautiful day, and when John gets home, we’re going to take a leisurely bike ride so I can show him the purple flowers I found. Then dinner.
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.
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!!!”
Four years today. I miss my puppy.
(The video is from Jan 2012.)
For Dad:
That’s Tigger, up there. Stubborn pony who’s almost a horse (he’s just under 14.2 hands). And just below here, that’s me and Tigger after my lesson on Sunday. No joke, he is licking my t-shirt. I don’t know why.
Down there is Tigger in his muddy blanket. This is from last Tuesday, I think.
This is Dobby, Tigger’s frenemy. Another pony.
And this is Willow, the first pony I rode. She does NOT like to jump, so Wendy switched me to Tigger when I got to that point. I should have gotten a picture of her in her winter coat. She looked like a goat, with a beard.
Wendy has plenty of horses (not just ponies), but I don’t know them very well.
These next few pictures are from Sunday (a beautiful day, obviously). Random pic of the farm plus some of the outdoor arena.
And here’s the indoor arena.
My last three lessons have been GREAT. I rode with someone (Robin on Casino) on Tuesday (a week ago), and even Wendy pointed out that I had a great lesson WITH someone. I jumped the biggest jump I’ve ever jumped, and I handled Tigger’s minor tantrums well.
Then I rode with someone else on Sunday (Kelly on Mac) and alone today, and even though I felt weird on Sunday (I kept holding my arms wrong and Tigger’s head felt further away than usual (like I was taller?) – I blame the allergy medicine), both lessons were good and I’ve gotten a lot more comfortable. Of course, I should expect to see big improvements if I ride three times a week, but I can’t really afford that.
Anyway, this is the biggest jump I’ve jumped so far. Wendy says I’ve jumped that high (2’3″), but this one is set up like a pyramid and is 2’6″ wide. I haven’t jumped wide before, and it was really really cool.
This is what I normally jump. Or the Xs you can see in the outdoor arena. Jumping is so cool.
And, for atmosphere, this is the view past the indoor arena on a stormy day. John says it looks like Scotland.
Despite going through a phase these last two weeks of skipping meetings and avoiding people (not avoiding individuals – more like avoiding group interactions and expectations), I went to the monthly NOW meeting. It was a helpful reminder that, oh yeah, I like these people. They’re fun and interesting and understanding about feeling overwhelmed by obligations. They didn’t need anything from me and I could just go and be and be helpful and useful, even if it’s just helping someone load her car with donations.
So that was good, and maybe it’ll make me more likely to go to the next thing. Which is Sunday afternoon. And I need all the help I can get when it comes to doing ANYthing on a Sunday afternoon. Being sick takes everything out of me. Even now, when I’m starting to feel better, I still want to be lazy. And then I feel bad about being lazy. And then I get annoyed because, damn it, I’m allowed to be lazy for a week. And then I’m grumpy. I might be a toddler masquerading as an adult. Don’t tell work.
I cannot be trusted. I didn’t keep any of my promises about horse pictures. Turns out I have demanding readers. However, I DID go back out there yesterday (a sunny day!) where I took a few more pictures. Having the pictures is a big step towards posting the pictures. Really. Although there still aren’t any of me riding or jumping. That requires bringing a photographer along with me, and that hasn’t happened yet.
Everyone (Dad), take a deep breath. The pictures will be uploaded. Put some positive vibes out in the universe today! The sun was up when my alarm went off and the sky is blue and I feel better. Now I have to work.
I have heard from a lot of people here that everyone gains allergies in Oregon. I’m pretty confident I can dismiss that as the usual local nonsense EVERYONE says about where they live, like, “Don’t like the weather? Wait five minutes – it’ll change!” Maybe they don’t say that in southern California, but they say it everywhere else. Regardless, I don’t blame Oregon for how I’ve been feeling this week. It’s spring, trees are blooming, this is expected.
I occasionally worry that I’m taking TOO much allergy medicine, though. (John says this is because I need something to worry about at all times.) But seriously, year-round I take Singulair and Zyrtec. These last few days I’ve added Flonase. This evening I’m taking Benadryl, and tomorrow I plan to take Sudafed. I probably won’t take all five tomorrow, but I will take four. I’ll skip the Benadryl…oh, only until tomorrow night, so actually I will take all five tomorrow. (I’m not actually worried about it.)
The Benadryl seems to be working. Earlier this evening I was making a big dent in the box of kleenex, but the Benadryl has dried me up. I’m just afraid I won’t sleep well because on top of the general misery, Benadryl doesn’t always knock me out anymore.
Boohoo and whatever. I’ll do my best not to write about drugs and kleenex tomorrow.
Hi. Sorry. Still here, just fighting a cold or maybe allergies or whatever. It comes and goes, but it’s enough to keep me off my computer once work is over. Mostly. Today, Mindy sent me a delightful Martin and Lewis video neither of us had ever seen, and the latest story arc on Agents of SHIELD is the best since they tied in with Captain America: The Winter Soldier, and my third library book (the vampire one) was WAY better than the two before, so I’ve been pretty well entertained the last couple of otherwise miserable days. (Seriously – yesterday was a 3-crisis, 10-hour workday, on top of feeling crappy. I haven’t had a work day that stressful since I took the new position last fall. Not fun.)
Anyway, I’m going to bed with my new book and hopes of less congestion tomorrow.
My plans for the evening have been derailed. I rode (great lesson – more tomorrow, or at least pictures tomorrow), I came home, I started cooking dinner. The plan was to eat early and then head out to book club. The eating part happened. The book club did not because, well, it depends on how you look at it.
From one angle, I’m a big baby. My throat hurts, and it hurts to swallow, and I don’t want to be sick, and I’m cold, and I want to take a hot shower and crawl into bed and NOT GET SICK. (And whine. Let’s not forget the whining.)
From another angle, I’m being solicitous of my fellow book club members by staying away when I might have something they could catch. I’m being careful of my health by resting now, early, in the hopes that it won’t get worse, and I won’t get John sick. I’m a good person, damn it.
What I’m annoyed about, aside from the discomfort, is how fast it came on. I guess my throat was tickling a little earlier in the day, but I felt great while I was riding, and I babbled for half an hour or more with Mom and Dad on the phone and didn’t notice any problems. After that, WHAM.
So. Tea for dessert, hot shower, then bed with all the blankets. I can beat this thing.
I’m in a mood. A reading mood, but it’s not the kind of mood that only means I want to read. This is the kind of mood that means I’m hyper-critical of what I’m reading. I picked up three books from the library yesterday, all books that had been recommended to me or that had appealed to me on some trip to a bookstore or something.
I put the first one down after 24 pages. All of the exposition was in dialogue between a brother and a sister, and it was SO. PAINFUL. They clearly both remembered a thing that happened, but they had to talk through every detail in a way real people would NEVER DO. It’s like this radio commercial I HATED in Virginia for Warman Home Care (you know, like warm and caring? UGH) where a wife says to her husband, “you know how you’re worried about your dad getting older and living by himself and how he won’t be able to take care of himself but how we can’t do it either?” and every time I heard it, I cringed because NO ONE HAS THAT CONVERSATION! People use shorthand! They refer to conversations they’ve had before without going into every detail. Good writing would remember that and use references like clues to pull the reader in. This book was like that commercial and it was so irritating. And then the author tried REALLY HARD to make sure you knew how old the characters are now and were then. On one page, he said straight out that one character was 33, the sister was two years younger than that character, and the brother was three years older. Got it. Okay. A few pages later, the narration explicitly says that a certain event happened 23 years previously. At that point, I did the math – brother was 13, sister was 8. I’m with you. Then, at the bottom of the SAME PAGE, the brother asks the sister, “so, how old were we when that happened?” and she says, “well, I was 8, so you must have been 13.” OH MY GOD I GET IT.
I quit after that.
I picked up my next book right after that and nearly put it down after seven sentences. The main character, making dinner at home with his family, was julienning an onion. The pretentiousness oozed off the page. Are you a chef? No. Is this book about food or cooking? No. THEN YOU’RE CHOPPING THAT GODDAMN ONION. On the next page, we learn he lives in a brownstone. A page later, we learn that he’s going to his local bar, steps away from his brownstone. Then he goes to Whole Foods with his canvas bag, which is just blocks away from his brownstone. Guess what, guys? Mr. Perfect lives in a brownstone. I’m kind of glad he got kidnapped.
For reasons, I don’t understand, I’m still reading this book. I’ll finish it tonight, and I can move on to a book where the Queen is a vampire. I’m expecting better from the paranormal.
Today was a good day for a bike ride. One that I am out of shape for. (My butt is not too crazy about me right now, and my legs only stopped burning 20 minutes ago.)
John had an idea of where he wanted to go, so I said, “I will follow you,” out loud, to his back as we took off, and for the next half hour, I had Little Peggy March’s “I Will Follow Him” in my head. I didn’t have headphones, I didn’t even have my phone, and we were going too fast to chat. I had only my brain to save me, and oh, brain, you failed. Little Peggy March faded to Sister Act, back to Tiny Peg, back to Whoopi not measuring up to her choir, and all the while, I was resisting the urge to be the crazy person pedaling madly after a man, singing “He is my destiny!” at the top of my lungs.
I have been blanking on things to write about lately. I feel like I keep talking about the same things: the weather, riding, running. There’s been a lot of music stuff recently, too. I’m happy to talk about any of those things when something interesting happens, but it’s all status quo around here. My riding is progressing nicely (I LOVE IT SO MUCH), but what’s new to say about riding in circles in the arena and jumping? I mean, until I start jumping higher or unless I fall off again or something, there’s a lot of repetition. I rode in the rain and wind today, but see? I just combined riding and weather. Not cool, bro.
I guess I’m in a writing lull. A writing gully. A culvert. A ditch. I don’t think I’m down a well or in a deep hole or anything. I’m just having a standard, somewhat boring week. Happy Wednesday to me.
Some songs that make me both happy and sad lately.
Sorry – I don’t usually bother watching videos on other blogs. I prefer to read, but sometimes I can’t word. I won’t be offended if you don’t watch/listen to these. Like I’ll know anyway. 🙂
There’s a small chance of rain (duh). I wanted to run, but didn’t want to get soaked, so I decided to stay closed, run around the block, and remind my legs what it feels like to run hills. Got all dressed, got my shoes on, opened the door – rain. Closed the door, contemplated the gym. Got my keys and ID, opened the door – the rain had stopped. The sun was back.
Time to take my chances. Three laps into the ten laps I wasn’t sure I was going to complete (hills are HARD), and guess what happened?
My name is Zannah, and I live in Oregon.
I was nearly brained by a falling branch during my run the other day. I don’t know what made me jump out of the way – maybe I saw the movement? – but SOMEthing warned me, which was good because this branch was LARGE. It could have done serious damage if it had landed on my head, which I’m pretty sure is what would have happened. (It just scratched my calf.) A couple of people saw it and came over to check on me, but I was totally fine, still on my feet, aside from being a little shaken. I have NO idea what made it fall, at all or just then. It wasn’t terribly windy, there weren’t any animals or evil henchmen cackling up in that tree, and really, what else could have caused it if not angry squirrels or evil henchmen?
Twice in two days I found myself wracking my brain to place a reference, and I was seriously starting to doubt my brain. Thankfully, I was able to place both references (I actually got the first reference while I was worrying about the second), but it was a little worrisome. The first one was an “ooh-wee-ooh-ooh” from an Arkells song that was tickling my brain. It tickled John’s, too, so I wasn’t imagining it, and then Thursday, I managed to connect it to The Eagles, which I may have shouted across the hall, and John connected the last dot to “New York Minute”.
That was one solved, but the other one took another 24 hours. I could hear someone saying, and getting steadily louder while doing it, something like “No, definitely not. Decidedly not!” and then smaller, “Uh uh,” but I couldn’t figure out where that came from or exactly how it went. Was it a cartoon? An old movie? I was confident it was something from growing up, so if anyone could help me, Mindy could. I texted her, but I didn’t have enough information, and she didn’t get it. So that bugged me for an entire day, and then Friday morning, while I was making coffee, I got a glimpse of a hat and a piano and DING DING DING! It’s from Singin’ In The Rain, in the intro to “Make ‘Em Laugh”, and I was SO RELIEVED.
I’m not losing my mind yet.
Arkells, making me love them more. It’s not perfect, but it’s FUN. I’ll forgive them the small things.
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.