friends

You’re all absolutely right. It DOES get better. I will never doubt you again.

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We started Doctor Who a while back, but after six episodes we weren’t really thrilled, so we took a break.  I didn’t mention it because, well, because.  I knew I was supposed to like it.  Not liking it undermines what little geek cred I have.  At the urging of yet another friend (which is a reason I felt like I should like it – a large number of friends whose taste in this stuff I trust think it’s great.  What’s wrong with me?  Yeah, yeah, I don’t have to like everything my friends like, whatever…), we tried again the other night.  And all of our friends are right.  It’s better.  I’m not going to quit.  For those who are counting, we watched the 8th episode last night.

Is it weird that I switch pronouns (we to I and back again) like that?  I feel like I do that a lot.  I can’t decide if it sounds like I’m controlling John’s opinions or he’s controlling mine.  Neither of those is true, of course.  We just have similar opinions about TV.  And movies.  And vacations.  And dogs.  And friends.  And lots of things.  Mm.  We sound boring.  I swear, my mind is my own.  We rarely read the same books.  He doesn’t like spicy food.  I don’t like Sons of Anarchy.  He doesn’t like to admit that he finds cat videos amusing.  (Some of them.  I mean, come ON.  Cat videos are what the interwebs were built on.)  Etc.

To sum up, here’s a video (from The Daily What) of a mariachi band serenading a whale.

Grades and grudges

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I feel like I’ve had a big test every week for the past month.  I’m not that far off, actually.  My statistics midterm is tomorrow, and now that I’ve finished the fourth quiz (and covered all of the material that will be on the midterm), I feel much better about it than I did about the calculus exams.  We’ll see how I feel when it’s over.  Speaking of things being over, I got a B in that calculus course.  I’ve never been so happy to see a B.  Maybe now I can find my routine again.

I got stood up yesterday by the loan officer from the bank that holds our mortgage.  I raced home so I could be there when he called (we want to refinance), sitting down (not in the car) and not distracted, and guess who never called?  I was a little annoyed.  A lot annoyed.  He called this morning to apologize and reschedule for this afternoon.  I’ve decided not to hold a grudge.  I’m carrying enough of those.  How many is enough?  Or too many?  I only have grudges against three people, and I think they’re justified.  I know Margaret agrees.  It might be a little immature, and maybe it would be healthier to forgive and forget, but since it doesn’t affect my day-to-day life, do I have to?

I could fall down flat on my face and not notice

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I cannot begin to describe how worn out I am.  We were up way late (for us – like 1am) last night and slept in as late as we could before work today.  Not long enough.  So we were dragging when we woke up.  I worked from home today, and while the morning was fine, the afternoon was frustrating and what little energy I had from my morning tea wore off pretty quickly.  I went to the gym this evening for my strength class, and the instructor tried to kill us.  She had us jumping from exercise to exercise, targeting two muscle groups at once, no breaks.  Our heart rates were up and I was STILL yawning.  It’s almost 7:30.  If I’m not in bed by nine, I might not make it through tomorrow.

Even with all that, I don’t regret last night.  We had dinner with friends we see less than once a year, friends who were just passing through on their way south, and if it means a day like today, well, okay.  Worth it.

Not so good

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I took my calculus final last night.  I don’t feel good about it.  And that sucks.  But it’s over, it’s done, there’s nothing left but the screaming, and I will do my best not to fret.  Until I get my grade.  But then at least I’ll know.  New focus: statistics.  My goal for the weekend is to get through two more quizzes.  And run six miles on Saturday.  That’s really all I’m hoping to accomplish.  That and get to the grocery store.  I need to buy lots of fruit and other healthy things.  And maybe go to Target.  And possibly weed the flower beds.  Drink some wine.  Oooh, I bought a raspberry merlot (“the kind you buy at a second-hand store”) at one of the wineries Jess and I visited last weekend (did I mention Jess and I went wine-tasting last Saturday?).  It’s really good.  Sadly, it’s mostly gone already.  I might have to buy more…but maybe not this weekend.  I’m in danger of over-scheduling myself.  Focus, please.  Statistics!

Riley loves me, this I know

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Who can resist those beautiful brown eyes?

He’s reminding me that I should be paying attention to him who adores me and not so much to the computer.  I’ll be right there, Doggy-dog.

I love Tom and Lorenzo.  They make fun of people in the most delightful way.

That appears to be all I have to say today.  Oh, wait.

This week, from an I-was-better-about-doing-the-things-I-need-to-be-doing perspective, has been much better than last week.  Last week was all about keeping weird and stupid hours, not getting enough sleep, eating like a piggy little pig, and NOT EXERCISING AT ALL.  All week.  I didn’t feel so hot when I got to last weekend.  I felt downright disgusting.  And very very tired.  So I’ve been better this week.  Not perfect, no, but better.  About that stuff.  I haven’t pigged out (as much), I’ve done some sort of exercise every day since Sunday, and I’ve been getting closer to eight hours of sleep every night.  This week was MUCH worse for work, though.  But I’m not going to talk about that.  (I vented to Jess on my way home today, so I feel a little better.  Thanks, Jess!)

The other thing I feel better about?  Calculus.  I got my midterm grade back over the weekend.  I got a B.  That’ll do.  I thought I did better than that, but considering…everything, I can be happy with it.  I take my final next week.  I turned in my last quiz twenty minutes ago, so the final is all that’s left.  That feels good, but so does knowing I can still handle calculus.  After all this time.

Now what do I get to do?  Clean.  Clean like crazy, like the wind, like I’ve never cleaned before.  Because the house is a WRECK.  It looks like a tornado came through.  See for yourself:

This is what happens when we don't pick up the clutter for a couple of weeks. We just keep shoving it to the side.

Note the calculus paraphernalia and the books stacked all over the dining room table (because the giant annual used book sale I LOVE was last weekend and we just HAD to leave work early on Friday to go before they closed at 7pm that night because we were out of town the rest of the weekend) and the toilet paper, giant bottle of ibuprofen, and tons of mail scattered on the island.  And that’s just this room.

I know where I’m starting, though.  All those new books need to be shelved, and before they can be shelved, they have to be catalogued.  Hey, it’s gotta be done.  I might as well be the one to do it.

Uno, Dos, Tres, Catorce!

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Baltimore is not close.  Not during rush hour.  Not in the middle of the week.  Did we go and have a really good time (once we got there)?  Of course we did.  We saw U2.  How could that not be a good time?  It’s gotta be one of the longest tours ever, though.  We saw them almost two years ago – same album, same tour.  This show might have been better than that one, though.  They still had the whole crowd singing “I Still Haven’t Found What I’m Looking For”, and that was still awesome (maybe a little awesome-er), and they still have the weird alien monster/spaceship stage set thingy.


Our seats were as far away from the stage as you could get and still be in the stadium.  I could barely pick each band member out on the stage.  Good thing the alien overlords brought giant screens with them.  It sounded incredible, though.  I love when I can feel the drums and bass in my chest and under my feet.

I liked how they did “Beautiful Day” this time around.  The giant screen showed pictures of Earth from space, and Bono said they were dedicating the song to Congresswoman Gabby Giffords, and then the camera switched to a video of her husband, the astronaut, while he was actually out in space about a month ago.  He introduced the song with floaty cue cards (normal cue cards, but he was in space, so on with the floating), and then Bono started singing and it was really cool (I like that song a lot).  During the part near the end (“See the world in green and blue, see China right in front of you…”), Bono was singing those lines under Mr. Congresswoman Astronaut Mission Commander’s spoken version.  I liked it.

Later, I don’t remember during which song, the alien invader shot beams of light into space.  I can only assume it was contacting the mothership.  We’ll have to keep an eye on the skies for a little while.

They played for about two hours, and it took us another hour or so to get back to the car, and then we waited for almost 20 minutes in the drive-thru of the worst McDonald’s in Maryland just to get some fries and caffeine so we’d make it back home.  Otherwise, the trip home was pretty easy, relatively quick, and we were asleep by 2:30.  And up at 8.  I’m TIRED.  I don’t do the middle of the night well anymore.

John, looking a little like Jack Nicholson here, does his best to hide his frustration at the traffic.

Every picture I tried to take once it got dark came out really bad, so there’s no point sharing them.  We ran into a guy I knew in college (he was in ROTC with me) while standing in the Will Call line to get our tickets.  We were never really friends, just acquaintances, and this is the second time we’ve run into each other in three or four years.  Once at the mall in Tysons, and once in Baltimore.  Neither of us lives anywhere near either of those places.  Maybe the universe is telling us we should be friends.  That would be easier if we’d exchanged any information at all.  Not something I’ll lose any sleep over.  I don’t have any sleep to lose.

It was a good concert, we had a good time, and I’m glad we went.  Even if I do have circles under my eyes so dark they could be mistaken for that black paint they put on football players to cut down on the glare.  (That’s why they do that, right?  Not to look scarier?)  I’m putting Baltimore up there with FedEx Field on the list of places I won’t go for a concert unless it’s for someone REALLY good.  The traffic, the parking, the whole tedious hassle of getting there and back – it’s got to be worth it.  I think U2 was worth it.  Ask me again in a few days, after I’ve slept.

No, it was worth it.  Not because it was U2.  I like doing something.  With John.  This was a 10-hour round trip, nonstop time with John on our way to and from seeing one of his favorite bands of all time.  I’d do it again.  But I’ll plan to take the next day off work.

Lack of objectivity

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Hi.  My name is Zannah, and I’m a Les Mis-aholic.  Kind of.  (Whoops.  Failed already.)  I’ve seen the show five times I can think of off-hand (possibly six), and I never get tired of it.  On my way to work this morning, I heard on the radio that it’ll be at the Kennedy Center for the whole month of October.  I want to go!  I won’t make John go this time.  He’s gone twice (once when we were in college, and once a couple of summers ago (he bought me the tickets for Christmas – made me cry)), and he was underwhelmed both times.  The question becomes (once I decide it’s worth $100 to me (it totally is, but I can’t be objective about whether or not that’s a ridiculous sum of money)) do I go alone?  Silly question.  Of course I’d go alone.  But maybe I don’t have to….are my friends (the local ones, anyway) cuckoo for Les Mis-flavored Cocoa Puffs?

Thank goodness for notes

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I’m back home, where spring has sprung, but it’s not warm enough for me.  Not after a week of mid-70s in New Orleans.  Not after only needing a jacket late at night on my way home a jazz club.  And speaking of weather and jazz and awesomeness, if I hadn’t made notes during the week, I wouldn’t know where to begin.  Since I did, I’ll begin at the beginning.

I got to New Orleans Saturday afternoon and made it to my hotel.  Pretty straightforward.  Finding my room after that was not so simple.  I was in Building 2 (or was it Building B?), which is up an escalator, up another escalator, across the breezeway, forward and then around to the left, past the gift shop that wasn’t open even ONCE the whole week, up an elevator, down a hall, and around another corner.  The gym (which I faithfully visited every morning except for the third, fourth, fifth, and sixth days), was back the way I’d come in and then another half-mile in the opposite direction from the front desk and up four floors.  It was a workout just to get there.

Everyone else (Mom, Dad, Mindy, Corey, Candy, and Gaby – we were only missing John and Mark) got there a few hours later, and after dinner, Mindy, Corey, Candy, and I headed to Bourbon Street.  That was…something.  I may not have been in the right mood.  Crowded, loud, dirty.  We wound our way through throngs of girls in short prom dresses, frat boys, and vomit.  We did find a Dixieland band playing in a bar, though (Fritzel’s European Jazz Pub – beware the link if your speakers are on: music starts playing as soon as you land on the page).  That was cool.  Something I learned (although not that night): many musicians would rather you didn’t call it Dixieland.  Traditional New Orleans Jazz is the preferred term.

The next morning (Sunday – it was a beautiful morning), we had brunch at Brennan’s.  I could do that every week.  You’d have to roll me home every week, but WOW.  Loved the place, loved the strawberries and cream, LOVED the bananas foster and crepes fitzgerald.  My entree was meh, but everyone else’s was reallyreally good, and I tried them all.  From there, we hopped the streetcar to the Garden District (after changing into our UK gear – Go CATS!).  Those houses are amazing.

Detour to talk about the weather.  It was so warm.  SO warm.  And breezy, and wonderful, and WARM.  All the windows (big windows) on the streetcar were open and it felt so nice.  /detour

A little after 4pm (game time!), we hopped off the streetcar and Corey and Candy asked a nice stranger where we might be able to find a sports bar.  You can’t run around during March Madness with your UK gear on and NOT watch the game.  He sent us to one a couple of blocks away, practically empty, except for three people together at the bar and maybe another guy.  Just after halftime, one of the three at the bar walked by our table on her way back to her seat.  She was wearing a UK shirt, too, and Corey high-fived her.  Mindy and I looked at each other.  She looked really familiar to both of us, but it’s a little ridiculous of us to assume we know everyone in the world wearing a UK shirt, right?  Well, right, except not in this case.  I went over to ask her.  “Are you from [town redacted]?”  “Yes.”  “Did you go to [high school redacted]?”  “Zannah?”  So, yeah, we went to high school together, had friends in common (loyal commenter IBCRandy, among others), remembered each other vaguely, but enough.  Totally weird.  She lives in the neighborhood we were in.  What are the odds?  The stars aligned for me this whole trip, but more on that in another post (or three).  So that was cool.  And UK won, which was also cool.  Too bad they couldn’t keep that up.

Dad, Corey, Candy, and Gaby all left on Monday (after breakfast at the Cafe du Monde, where we watched Gaby wallow in powdered sugar), and I went to work for a few hours.  I came back to find Mom and Mindy waiting in my room (it was kind of sad to come back after work the next day and have no one to meet me).  Mindy made an inspired dinner decision (I think it was her choice), and we went to the Grapevine Wine Bar.  No live music, but the wine made up for that.  We killed three bottles and ate appetizers (scallops, beef medallions, cheese and crackers, baked brie, and something else…mussels!) and skipped dessert.  Partly because who needs dessert after three bottles of wine, and partly because fudge cheese didn’t sound particularly appetizing.  I’m not making that up.

On our tipsy way back to the hotel after dinner, we met a three-man a capella group on the corner somewhere along Decatur and sang with them.  Met some people on the way back home (all new friends), and then Mom and Mindy left the next morning (Tuesday).  Tuesday night is when my solo adventures started, and I’ll get into them tomorrow.  I’m typed out.

It was a cool idea for a race, actually

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Roxy had a very strange episode last night.  It definitely goes into the seizure category, but it wasn’t like anything she’s ever done before.  She skipped the convulsion part and jumped straight to her recovery zone, where she wanders around the house and bumps into things for a while.  This time, though, she was skittish with us and she was halfway crouched down as she hurried from room to room.  It was weird.  She’s fine now.

In some strange way, I’m sure it led to the somewhat off-the-wall dream I had after finally going back to bed, involving an obstacle course/marathon through a city, in and out of houses and hotels and malls, through windows instead of doors, across bridges and boats and parks.  I was determined to beat my pal Jess, even though I knew she was better and faster than me in this event.  She was always just ahead of me, almost in arm’s reach.  The rest of the people running in the race were way behind us.  Because we’re awesome.

The Sing-Off

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Tonight was the first time I’d ever heard of The Sing-Off.  I still don’t know much about it, but it seems to be a talent show for a capella groups.  Good ones.  Little Sister Melvin (henceforth to be known as LSM (or Sparky) (I googled LSM to find out what it could stand for, and by far, my favorite is Lesbian Sex Mafia) has been watching it, so here, for your viewing pleasure (after you finish reading one of the most convoluted sentences in this entire blog), are my favorites of the videos she had me look up.

The lead singer in this first video is the guy from The Persuasions. I really like his voice.

This one will not be John’s favorite video, but Mom will like it.

He might like this one, though. It’s one of his favorite songs, but doing his favorite songs a capella has always been hit or miss.

This is the first one I’ve seen where they look like they’re having a good time.

Okay, I promise to stop now. There’s a lot of good stuff out there, and it all makes me want to sing again. It also reminds me that I should be reading Adam’s blog (among many many others). So off I go.

I’m ‘Enery the eighth I am

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Jess and I discovered today that we couldn’t name all six of Henry VIII’s wives.  At least we knew there were six.  We got four of them.  Three and a half, really; we had the wrong Jane.  THREE Catherines, two Annes, and a Jane.  I think I’ve got it now.  A book of paper dolls set us straight, and I can’t decide if that’s funny or embarrassing.

It’s time for another list

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Things I want to make time for:

  1. Catch up on six months of Runner’s World issues
  2. De-clutter the house.  It’s an endless cycle, I know, but I want to be ahead of the clutter for once.  Just for a while.
  3. Exercise.  Like real exercise.  I haven’t been getting out of bed early enough to do more than a couple of miles (occasionally three) before work, and I need to have time for four or five.  Or six, once I work my way back to handling that long of a run.  And what about other stuff, like lunges, squats, push-ups, crunches?  When am I supposed to fit those in?  Maybe I can try to make room for those at night.  Before dinner, before bed.  I’d like to do them right after the run, but I don’t think that’s realistic.  Not when I need to be out the door by 8:30.  The days are already getting shorter, sunrise is later, and just how early do I think I’m going to get up?
  4. Find an affordable place to live.  With jobs.  Or find jobs that’ll let us work from anywhere.  Yes, I know our current jobs could technically be done from home, but the hard part is finding the employer who will let us do that.  So maybe that’s the next thing on the list.
  5. Find jobs/employers who will allow, even encourage, us to work from home.  This list is changing directions a little.  It’s not like we’re looking for new jobs.  ‘Cause we’re not.  ‘Cause I certainly wouldn’t be announcing that here.  That would be dumb.  Let me rephrase.  Find a way to convince our current employers that we’re much more effective working from home.  There.  For real, despite my recent schedule, I like my job.  Now that I’ve (hopefully) convinced my current employer that I’m not looking for a way out, let’s move on.
  6. Play with the dogs!  This should move up the list.  I feel like I’m neglecting them a bit.  They get lots of love, and I take them on my morning jog every other day or so, but I don’t run them around the yard or really play with them outside as much as I should.
  7. See friends.  Again, this should move higher up the list.  Almost all of our friends live too far away.  Seeing them always means making plans, which sometimes is just too exhausting to think about.  We have so little free time during the week and we spend all weekend doing chores and running errands, so the free time we have on the weekends tends to be spent enjoying the quiet and the knowledge that we don’t have to run around for an hour or two.  We are trying to figure out a better way to live.  This is nuts.  And that leads me back to what I was saying a couple of months ago.  Neither of us wants to live like this.  We don’t want the conventional jobs, with conventional work hours and conventional commutes and conventional bosses.  But how do we get out?

Productivity is my middle name

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It rained all night last night.  A welcome change, and really soothing to fall asleep to (several times, since I woke up a few times last night).  We woke up at 7 this morning to find it still pouring, so running was out of the question.  We found ourselves breakfasted and in the basement before 9am, and we spent a good hour making some donation and trash decisions.  We’re not done getting rid of the crap in the basement, not by a long shot, but we made a sizable dent.  (That looks weird.  Sizable.  Sizeable?  Still weird.)  Around 10:30, I went to Costco for Roxy’s medicine and then to Target (yeah, I know – again), and I was supposed to be home before noon so we could leave at noon to meet Erik and Margaret for lunch and a movie.  Well, you know how Target is.  I got sucked in, and it was almost noon when I got in the car to come home and get John.  So we were late.  I hate being late, but this time I can’t blame anyone by myself (sorry again, guys!).  It didn’t help that I got off the toll road going the wrong way on 7 and had to turn around and THEN wade through the normal traffic in the area.  Lunch (at Maggiano’s) was good, but it was more about catching up with E&M, who we hadn’t seen since mid-May, and that was much-needed and much fun.  After the movie (Knight and Day – the first half was funny and pretty entertaining.  The second half was okay, but less fun.), I bought a new wallet (a nice red, big, adult-type wallet to replace my falling-apart, overstuffed, tiny little wallet that gets lost in my purse and was meant to only hold the bare necessities but got drafted into full-time use because I don’t know why), and we came home, checked on the dogs (they’re fine), and did geeky website things together (I updated my Pages section.  See?).  Tomorrow might not be so productive, but you never know.

What a coincidence

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As I waited at the stoplight at Bellevue and Memorial on my way home from work today, I heard someone call my name.  I looked over and, oddly enough, it was the guy from last night (the one who wouldn’t stop talking) in the car in the next lane over.  I know Newport’s a small town, but what are the odds?  Which is pretty much what we talked about for the 30 seconds before the light changed, through our open windows.

When I got back to the inn, I changed clothes and came downstairs to head out for dinner.  I’d planned to wander a little and then eat a light dinner and come back early so I could get a normal night’s sleep.  (Last night was not normal, and not long enough.)  I ducked into the parlor to grab a cookie (they set out tea and they have the BEST cookies), and I met two women who had just checked in.  We chatted a little, then a little more, and before I knew it, it had been an hour.  I decided not to keep them any longer, since I knew they wanted to head out for dinner, and they invited me along, so we continued chatting for the next three hours.  They’re staying in one of the other houses here, so I’ll probably see them again.  Hope I do.  I liked them.  🙂

(We had dinner at Puerini’s, and I had garlic sauteed with garlic, shallots, garlic, butter, garlic, herbs, and garlic in a white wine sauce.  With clams.  And garlic.  That’s how it feels (and tastes) now, anyway.  But it was good.)

Me on a plane

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It’s ten to three.  We pulled away from the gate on time, did some taxi-ing (how do you spell that?  Taxying?  Taxing?  Taxiing?), and then came to a standstill on the tarmac with a message from the pilot.  “Something something something from Atlanta, 30 minutes before we can take off, approximate time of take-off 16 after the hour, blah blah ten-minute warning to turn electronics back off.”  So…why did we pull away from the gate?  Why board at all?  Maybe so those of us who are sleepy can nap uninterrupted, as both of my seatmates are doing right now.  (One is snoring.  Lightly, but still.)  I’m on the window this time, exit row again, next to two seemingly ordinary people.  We’ll see how it goes.  And Mom, I don’t ALWAYS have stories to tell about my flight.  On my way home from Atlanta two days ago, my seatmate was a woman visting her daughter in Leesburg.  She was a bit of a talker, but perfectly nice.  It wasn’t her fault that I wasn’t in the mood to chat.  (Maybe if she’d been a hot ex-Marine I’d have changed my mind about that.  🙂 )

I finished my Dresden Files book while waiting to board.  I have another one with me, but I’m going to try a new mystery writer first.  New to me.  Has anyone heard of Lawrence Block?  I read about his books somewhere (almost everything I buy comes from a recommendation now), but I can’t remember where.  So far so good.  The book is called “The Burglar in the Library”, the main character owns a used bookstore, and he’s heading to an English-style bed and breakfast to look for a possibly non-existent rare book.  Just my cup of tea.

Yesterday, John and I went to Erik’s place to help him celebrate getting his Masters degree in International Commerce and Policy.  (Erik, did I get it right?)

Hey, ten-minute warning.  I’ll finish that later.

Much later:

I’m in my hotel room after a trip to a nail salon (yay for pretty toes) and a trip to Kroger for breakfast and lunch supplies for the week.  Food and relaxing are at the top of my list for right now, so, um, bye.

No title for a post that has no subject

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We really need to make an effort to see our friends more often.  Yes, we’re busy, life is busy, and right now isn’t ever the best time, but these guys have been our friends for more than a decade, and I feel like we’re missing out on things.  Try harder!  I can do that.  For now, though, I’m going to track John down.  We got home tonight and heard loud music from somewhere down the street, so John went to find out if there’s a band playing or if it’s just someone’s radio turned up as loud as possible.  I’m sure he’s hoping it’s a band.

(This is me putting off thinking about tomorrow.  Except not really.  Just burying it.)

Meeting (and making) new friends

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Yesterday afternoon, I went to DC to meet several local members of the Dooce Community.  Spokeit, a regular commenter here (say hi, everybody) organized it (thank you!), and six of us showed up at Busboys and Poets to hang out (one with baby and brother-in-law in tow).  We talked about everything from ticks to strapless dresses (and puffed sleeves!), and I had a really good time.  I didn’t stay long (about two hours) because I didn’t want to spend most of my last day at home away from John, but I would like to do it again.  Maybe host it next time?  I realized, after I left of course, that even though I brought my camera, I didn’t take a single picture.  I HAVE to get better about that.

Oh, and Spokeit, guess what song was playing on the radio as I left DC?  That’s ri-ight, the ubiquitous (big word points) “Hey, Soul Sister”.  The universe is telling me (and everyone within range of a radio, Sirius or otherwise) to go to the Train concert this summer.

Last thing about yesterday: as I left the restaurant and headed across the street, a guy I’ve never seen before flagged me down and tried to pick me up.  !  He was carrying a couple of cloth Safeway bags full of groceries, and he started chatting me up as we walked down the block.  !!  Was I from around there (no, I told him practically West Virginia), could he have my phone number (“Well, I’m married…” “You’re married?!?”  “… and I was just on my way to pick him up.”), can he call me anyway and we’d just be friends and do I live with my husband (“Of course I live with him.”  “Then I guess I shouldn’t call.”), and then he chatted about the party he was planning for the Lakers game tonight, and then he crossed the street to his apartment building.  And I heaved a sigh of relief because I really don’t know how to handle that kind of situation.  That sounds ridiculous, I know (it’s just talking), but people don’t approach me on the street and start talking unless they need directions or something.  And people certainly don’t hit on me.  Or whatever that was.

And now, let’s add to the list of, shall we say, interesting people I meet on airplanes.  On my flight to Atlanta today, I had an aisle seat in an exit row that only had one other seat (on the window).  A quick glance at my seatmate showed a guy a little older than me, tall, slender, with majorly muscled arms.  (He was wearing a black tank top.)  He was on the phone and was doing that thing some guys do with their voices when they’re talking to women, sort of softening it.  (Did I mention he was good-looking?  He was.  Very.)   Of course I was eavesdropping (it only looked like I was reading), and it sounded like he was talking to his mother.  The flight attendant came by to make sure we were comfortable with the responsibilities that go along with sitting in an exit row, and as she left, he turned to me and said (with a very cute grin), “If it comes to that, I will eat that door.”  It was funny, we laughed, and it turns out he used to be a Marine.  Recon.  Badass.  That helps to explain the tattoos on his arms.  He didn’t seem like your typical macho Marine, though.  He came across more like the perfect sensitive Marine, the ones that only exist in the movies.  He said he was a writer and had recently been published.  What kind of book?  Philosophy.  Oh, and he’s a physical trainer?  I can see that.  And an actor?  Busy guy.  Anything I might have seen?  HBO and The History Channel?  Wow.  And he works for veterans’ groups.  And plans to start a gym in New York that will double as a rehab/counseling center where ex-soldiers conditioned to violence can work on moving past all that.  And apparently, he’s for real.  I wasn’t sure for a while.  He’s this guy.  Also, this guy.  And he’s trying to decide whether he wants to work on a Discovery Channel project next (“One Shot, One Kill” – he was a sniper) or something with Spike TV or one of three other TV projects.  And all of that came AFTER he talked about the training and the killing people and the violent episodes and close calls and how he worries about the guys in his unit who may not have been as strong as he is and can’t break away from the mercenary work they’re doing now that they’re out of the military.  WAY more information (and way more intensely delivered) than I was expecting to take in from a guy I’ve never met before on an hour and a half-long flight to Atlanta.  But he was nice, and he’s got a lot of projects going on, but the ones he seems to take the most seriously are the ones helping his friends and helping veterans.  He was sincere and had been through a lot, and I got off the plane wanting to help him (after I talked to John to hash out how strange the whole experience was).  Oh.  Oh!  How could I leave this part out?  So he’s worked with HBO (he played himself in “Generation Kill”, which started as a book by a reporter who was embedded with his unit in Iraq), and he’s met Ridley Scott and he’s done work in England and HE’S FRIENDS WITH EMMA THOMPSON!  He was her personal trainer for a bit.  How cool is that?  I’m two degrees away (or is that one?) from Emma Thompson!

I’m a gardening fiend

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That’s short-lived, I promise.  I don’t like gardening, but I’ll do what I have to do to keep the neighbors from attacking.  We missed mowing the lawn last weekend because of the trip to Pittsburgh, so throughout this past week, the grass got taller and taller and weedier-looking and weedier-looking.  It looked awful, so bad we could have been hiding cars on cinder blocks in the front yard, and we lost the dogs every time we opened the back door.  I knew we had a busy weekend ahead, so since I got home from work early yesterday (yay!), I decided that the least I could do was get a head start on the yardwork.  I spent over three hours out there, weeding my flower bed in the back and mowing the front lawn.  It made a big difference this morning, as John was able to clean, mow, and weed-whack the backyard while I mulched the flower bed, all in about an hour and a half.  (I carried every one of those giant mulch bags all the way to the bed by myself, and I can’t remember the last time I was so completely covered in dirt.  Actual dirty dirt.)

We were right on schedule to get out of the house with plenty of time to get to DC (I’m meeting some people – details will follow after our meetup), but then John checked his work email.  Apparently, something didn’t go quite right after an update and everyone’s panicking (probably unnecessarily), so John’s trying to calm them all down.  I’m waiting to find out if he’ll be stuck working or if he can still go with me.  End result?  We’re running late.  But, since this is a group party-thing I’m going to, it’s not that big a deal if I’m not right on time.  And since I’m leaving tomorrow for a week, I plan to only spend an hour or two at the thing anyway.  I’ll probably want to stay longer (I already want to stay longer), but I don’t want to leave tomorrow feeling like I hardly saw John this weekend.

Oh, we’re going.  More later.

Famous relatives and abandoned blogs

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Okay, okay.  I accept that what happened to me yesterday morning was a panic attack, and I’ll call the doctor in the morning.

TV, anyone?

I love the theme song for Treme (on HBO).  John and I haven’t decided if we want to keep watching it, but we had to watch the first two episodes.  Required viewing in this family.  Why?  Check out the concierge in the second episode.  She’s related to ME!  How cool is that?  The concierge in question (who Steve Zahn waved at!) is my soon-to-be-famous sister-in-law.  So, you know, kind of related to me.  Close enough.

Candy, I thought you were great.  Even though we were watching for you, we were caught by surprise when you did appear, and then there was much squealing and pausing and rewinding and rewatching.  (I’ll take credit for most, if not all, of the squealing.)  We couldn’t possibly delete the episode from our DVR, of course.  We’ll have to show it to everyone who comes over.  And we started with Jess on Saturday night.  So for the next…I don’t know how long, everyone who enters the house will have to watch Candy’s scene in Treme.  🙂  You think I’m kidding?  Just wait.

Go visit Curiosity. She’s listing her priorities for life (and making fun of Victoria’s Secret models).  Who can resist?

You know what bugs me?  (In a little way, not a big way.)  Finding a blog I like, and then realizing they don’t update every day.  And it’s not just that they don’t update every day (’cause that’s okay.  People are allowed to lead busy lives and do other things and NOT update the blog every single day.  Yes, you have my permission.), but then they don’t update every few days, and then it’s been a week, and then two months.  It’s so disappointing!  I bookmarked you because I liked you!  I liked to read you!  And then you abandoned me.  How could you?  *sob*  (Mom, I’m not talking about you, since I talk to you every day, and you tell me the things you would blog about.  I feel up to date on you.  But if I didn’t actually know you, and I found your blog some other way, then yes, I’d be talking about you.  (Was that too harsh?  I didn’t mean to be harsh.))  I have five or six blogs bookmarked that fall in this category, and since I already don’t have the time read all the blogs I bookmark (but I really want to), I may have to clear those few out.