Two...more...days...

...until this ass of a week is over!

And I can't think of anything more fun, after another 9-hour day at work, than facing a pile of laundry.

Yes, my life is SO glamorous and fun.

I promise I'll stop whining very soon.

Or at least I'll whine about something else.

At least there's a four-day weekend ahead.
And margaritas tomorrow.
And more cocktails at a party on Friday night (my liver is in danger this week).
And then a birthday party featuring a bouncy house on Saturday.
And a possible get-together with an old high school pal who's visiting my gray, drizzly city sometime after that.

Just two... more... days....

Bzzzzzzz....

That's the sound I'm making these days.

I'm a busy little (okay, maybe not so little) bee at work right now... as I'm filling in for one of my managers (oh, the irony...) until Friday, and it's been mighty hectic. MIGHTY hectic.

So not only have I not had much time to read my favorite blogs, I haven't had any time to do anything interesting to blog about.

I know. That's never stopped me before. Shut up.

Okay, so here's something I keep wondering about...

How on earth is there still any hair on my head?

I lose some every day in the shower. I lose some more when I blow dry and style my hair. Then, when I clean house, as I did yesterday after, oh, about 2 1/2 weeks of sloth, I swept up massive piles of hair.

Why am I not bald yet?

See ya real soon!

On to more pleasant subjects...

So, yeah... despite my extreme exhaustion and fragile emotional state, I DID drag my ass over to Berkeley last Friday evening, to spend a little quality time with Anthony Bourdain and a few hundred other people.

First, though, I got to spend a little time with the lovely Miss Angela and the extraordinarily adorable Luke. Seriously, go click over there and check out the little guy. And that was just what the doctor ordered to lift my mood a bit.

Now, the bookstore where the reading took place is surrounded by really cool shops. Like a MAC store. Bare Escentuals. Restoration Hardware. And a Crate and Barrel OUTLET. Not to mention, I can easily spend hours (and too much money) in a bookstore.

In other words, it's a danger zone for someone who's feeling pissy and enjoys a little retail therapy.

Or a lot of retail therapy.

I was good, though. I bought a new cocktail shaker, which, as you know, I desperately needed. And some lipglass. Which I always need. But that was it.

I got to the bookstore about 45 minutes before the reading was to begin, and all the seats they'd set out were already taken. So I bought my book and high-tailed it over to one of the few places left to sit -- a window ledge -- and watched the crowd get larger by the second.

By the time the thing started, the place was jam-packed. And since it was a very warm day, it was about a thousand degrees in the bookstore, which, like many places close to the bay, had no air conditioning. So I might not have had a case of the uglies, but I definitely had a case of the sweaties.

It's a good thing he was entertaining. He read a short piece from his new book, and then spent about 45 minutes answering questions. He's very much the same in person as he is on TV, only even better-looking. Yum.

The only question he wouldn't answer was whether he was married or dating someone. Funny.

And yes, because I knew some of you (yes, you, BuddhaGirl!) would never speak to me again if I didn't, I stood in a hot, long-ass line to get my book signed. (I keep trying to post the picture of that page, but fucking Blogger won't fucking let me...!!)
He was very gracious and signed countless books and allowed countless people to take pictures with him. (No, I was not one of them.)

He was a delightful diversion after a very long and taxing week. And I still have a crush on him.

Oh. The book's good, too...!

(And yes, I'm in much better spirits now. I think my mourning period was extended in part because I couldn't share it with most people for awhile. As I said in my last post.. onward and hopefully, upward...)

Ebb and flow...

I am so lucky.

I have the best support system a dork could ask for.
On and off-line.

I can't tell you how much it means to me. Really. I'm in awe.

Onward and upward...

XOXOXOXOXOXOXO

Father's Day...

So what do you on Father's Day when you've spent more of your life without your father than with him?

He died when I was 8.
I have always wondered how my life would have been different if he hadn't.

I wonder how his loss affects my relationships (or lack thereof) with men.

I wonder if he would be proud of the person I am.

I will never know.


(sorry so maudlin; I am in a major trough right now.)

You can't always get what you want...

...and boy, this week is proof of that.

Trader Joe's is still out of several key items I really need. It's been something like three weeks now. What the hell?

My favorite eye shadow color has been discontinued by my favorite cosmetic line.

I went to the MAC store this evening, and they were out of both shades of Lipglass I wanted to buy.

Oh, and? I didn't get the promotion I was vying for.

At the risk of Dooceage, I will simply say that I am deeply disappointed.

As a consolation, my duties are being shifted a bit and I'm being given a different job title, but... well... it ain't what I wanted (or believe I'm worthy of).

However, I will do all I can to make the best of the situation because that's how I roll. Rise to the occasion and all that.

It's been a rough week, as I've known this since Tuesday and couldn't tell most of my closest confidants, as they are also co-workers.

Hello, Karma? What's going on here?

Pure evil...

As if regular Hershey's Kisses weren't tempting enough.... these things... HAVE PEANUT BUTTER IN THEM.

Omigod.

And my defenses are low, as I'm so sleep deprived I can barely see straight.

Nor can I keep track of how many Hershey's Kisses I've had.

And don't tell me to count the wrappers in the trash.
Not gonna do it.
Wouldn't be prudent.

I have to figure out who brought these things into work today, so I can scold them for my weakness.

The pointless post...

Why the hell is it so muggy out today? I think Mother Nature has confused us with, oh, the Midwest or something. It's very odd.

Make it go away. I'm sure that's part of the reason I couldn't sleep last night.


Ever have one of those moments when you have to use every ounce of the rational part of your brain (yes, part of my brain IS rational) to keep yourself from exploding? I had one today, on the way home from work, on an extraordinarily crowded bus. The driver, to her credit, kept yelling at younger people to give their seats up to seniors... but that made the trip last even longer than usual. And at one point, there was no more room to stand in -- I mean, NONE. I had people jammed up against me from every side, and the driver kept stopping and starting every few feet, so we were all struggling to stay on our feet.

I. WANTED. TO. SCREAM. I was THISclose to losing it.

Instead, I got the hell off. I was only seven blocks from home anyway.


So, Anthony Bourdain is in town this week, for a couple of book readings. Oh, goody! But who the hell can go to a reading at 12:30 on a THURSDAY??

Okay, I know, I know... restaurant people, for starters. I know. Lots of people have unusual schedules. I'm just cranky about it because I can't go to the one that's closest to home. Waaah.

However... he's doing one across the bay on Friday evening... Hmmmm...
I'll have to see how I'm feeling on Friday afternoon before I decide whether I'm up for that journey.

And if I'm having a severe case of the uglies, forget it.


Why is it that I'm still getting zits, even though I am now officially well into my 40's now? Isn't that wrong, to have the crow's feet, the gray hair, AND zits?

Come on, now. Give a girl a break!


Damn, I'm sleepy.

Shh...

Don't talk so loud.

I have a bit of a headache today.

Damn, those mai tais were yummy.

Also? I have the coolest friends on the planet. I really do. They're the best.

I'm heading back to my couch now.

I'm 21 x 2!

Eeeek!!

A day of decadence...

I love this time of year.

The lovely Miss Sassyhair treated me to a fabulous, yummy, mimosa-y brunch today, and then a spectacularly relaxing pedicure here, which included the best foot massage I've ever had. No joke. And then we got to enjoy some trashy mags while drying, and noticed that each one seemed to have the same stories about Britney and Kevin, Jessica and Nick, Lindsay and Paris, and Nicole Richie, week after week.

Still. I love trashy mags. I love spa experiences even more. If I ever came into any money, I'd totally be a spa whore.

So you can imagine how alarming it was, after being enveloped in a cloud of lavender and cucumber and yummy-smelling lotions to set foot back on Muni to come home and be hit with the aroma of urine and sour milk.

Oh, and since we were in the Haight, there had to be an unusual sight. It's practically a requirement. Today, it was a bunch of mostly male bicyclists... nude. We saw more penises than we were prepared for. And they weren't particularly pretty ones. I'm guessing the chill in the air didn't help.

And as Miss Sassyhair said, "I'm glad we saw that AFTER we ate."

(Oh, and is it odd that Anthony Bourdain turned up in one of my dreams last night? )

Yaay, Friday!

Boy, am I ready for the weekend.

My neck is all stiff.
My hair is bugging me.
My heel hurts. I think I have a new bone spur.
I'm tiiiiiired.

But I work with some of the coolest people ever.

They caked me this morning! Not once, but twice! *

Mind you, these aren't your average cakes, either.... but gluten-free ones (even my intestines are high-maintenance). And they're beyond yummy.

In fact, I'm pretty sure I'm on a sugar/caffeine/cacao high, from this extraordinary slab o'chocolate from Whole Foods.

It's just the thing I needed to get through these last few hours of the work-week.


*no, today's not the big day. i'll tell you when it's here.

Aaargh! haiku...

just keep your mouth shut

don't say something you'll regret

save it for later

Call me crazy...

...but I've developed quite the crush on Anthony Bourdain.

I tried reading "Kitchen Confidential" more than once, years ago, but couldn't get past the first couple of chapters. I'm not sure why, but it just didn't grab me. But his TV show has become a must-watch.

I love his philosophy, of striving to be a traveler and not a tourist, and the way he shows great reverence for other cultures (at least, if he doesn't, it's all edited out.). I love a self-deprecating sense of humor. Plus, it's entertaining to watch him eat every gross thing you could possibly imagine. And enjoy it.

And he's not bad to look at, especially when he gets that mischievous look in his eye.

Yeah, I think he's on my list now.

(Abrupt topic change)

I'm a bad citizen.

I decided not to vote today.

I sat down with my ballot last night, and realized I couldn't come to a decision on anything. I don't like either of the Democratic candidates for governor; failing some greater inspiration, I just want someone to get Arnie out of office. And I don't have much confidence that either of these guys can do it.

The other races? Yawn. Lots of career politicians who are being termed out of office, looking for new jobs.

I don't care enough about the ballot measures to make an informed decision, and I'm torn on the one that is remotely interesting.

And why, oh why, are we asked to choose judges? How are we qualified to make that decision?

So I've thrown my hands up in the air and decided to be part of the majority that's not bothering to cast a ballot today.

I promise not to complain about the results.

Well, THAT was interesting...

I couldn't resist. I DID end up taking a trip down unpleasant memory lane, and read that whole journal, which I started the day after he told me he was "struggling with bisexuality," and ends about a month after we split up for good, a little more than two years later (yeah, I'm not a consistent journaler... though since then, I've filled up four and a half more books.).

And when I was done, thinking, "Well, that wasn't so bad, "I realized that my jaw hurt and I had a headache.

I'd apparently been clenching my jaw without even realizing it.

What was really notable was how much agony I felt well before we finally separated, even more than after the split. Maybe not more -- different. That feeling of not knowing what to do, even though the answer is pretty clear. And isn't the answer you want. So you hold out for the one you do want. And wait. Even though nothing changes. And you wait. And things get worse. And you wait some more. In vain.

I also thought it was interesting just how long before the final split I realized that what I would be "losing" if we broke up was the illusion of the kind of love I want. And how willing I was to accept so much less than what I want, need, and dammit, deserve.

And it was troubling to realize that in the ensuing years, long after that debacle ended, I've STILL been willing to accept less. That I still don't value myself the way that I should...or even the way others do. Hell, that even HE did, in the end, when he finally admitted all the terrible things he'd done to me, knowing full well that all I'd ever done was love and support him more than anyone else in his life.

So instead of bringing me down, re-reading all of that gave me an entirely new perspective on me. I AM the shit. Yeah, my ass is huge and I don't really fit our society's definition of beauty, but fuck that. Any guy who gets even a minute of my attention is lucky. And I've gotta stop spending any time on anyone who DOESN'T get that.

"I'm a person who is looking for love. Real love. Ridiculous, inconvenient, consuming, can't-live-without-each-other love."

(Pardon me for quoting "Sex and the City," but I thought it was one of the best lines ever spoken on TV.)

I thought I had that, once. I hope I really do find it, though I realize I might not.
But I hope I don't settle for anything less.

Time flies...

I recently realized that it's now been ten years since the ex-hub and I separated the first time. It was late May of 1996 -- I don't remember the exact date anymore. Funny -- I remember counting each day we were apart, then!

Now, I initially hesitated to write about this, because sometimes I think I sound like I'm not over all of that mess (click here if you don't know what I'm talking about), but fuck it. I know I have scars from that relationship that I will carry around for the rest of my life.

And I'm big on milestones. Especially huge, life-altering ones.

I wasn't going to look at my journal from that time, because I'm in a good mood today, and I still remember how utterly and completely devastated I was when we decided to separate....and who needs to go back down that road again?

But I can't help but smile, looking back at some of what I wrote, and at some of the letters we exchanged.

• 
  

Early on, I couldn't sleep, I could barely eat, I felt like I was going to throw up all the time, I got a cold, and I was incredibly unfocused at work. Fortunately, my colleagues were very patient with me and my constant fuck-ups.

"I feel like a giant, open wound. What does it say about me that despite all the shit he's put me through, I still want to spend my life with him? I hate him for this, and yet I love him with all my heart."

"I'm just so drained. Kind of numb, too. Can you be numb and in pain at the same time?"

He wanted us to do something together on my birthday, which was a few weeks after we separated. Um, hello? I don't think so. He honestly couldn't understand why I didn't want to spend the day with him. Um, HELLO?? Pain, much?

(Tangent: for several years after we split, he'd send me flowers on my birthday, which annoyed me to no end. I'd send them home with a co-worker -- and in fact, would often never even see them, because I usually take my birthday off -- and leave him a voice mail telling him to knock it off -- that I didn't want them, I didn't enjoy them, and I wasn't keeping them. He finally stopped after the year I screamed into his voice mail, "IF YOU'RE TRYING TO MAKE ME FEEL SHITTY ON MY BIRTHDAY, YOU'VE DONE A GOOD JOB, ASSHOLE!" Heh.)

A little more than a month after we split, I was in much better emotional shape than he was. Now, I suppose that's to be expected, since he was also grappling with the truth about who he really was... but at the same time, what he put me through made me question everything I thought was true. This is not an exaggeration; I mean EVERYTHING.

And I'd almost forgotten about what I'd done about my wedding ring.

I hated looking at it after we separated; it felt like a big, fat lie on my hand. And I couldn't get the fucking thing off, because I'd gained weight after we got married. Nothing worked -- soap, vaseline, nothing.

So I went to the hardware store to find something that would cut through gold, and got a weird look from the guy I asked for help.

I found something, came home, and cut the damned thing off, sobbing the whole time. It didn't occur to me that maybe I was endangering my finger, considering my emotional state and how sharp that tool was.

But now I'm sitting here laughing out loud at the memory. And the joke was on me, because the indentations left behind by that ring (and the tan lines left by the other rings he'd given me) took awhile to fade.

Yeah, I got it re-soldered and re-sized during the summer, just in case... and resumed wearing it once we'd reconciled six months later. It came off again -- the normal way -- three ugly and painful months after that. (I'll write about that to mark that anniversary.)

Eventually, I took the stupid thing to a pawn shop, after no "reputable" jeweler was interested in it, and got a whopping $75 for it.

• 
  Somehow, that seems like an appropriate comment on the marriage itself. And yeah, I'm smiling as I click on "publish post."

Friday haiku...

driving me crazy

all those possibilities

make a decision!

And in other news... I'll drink to this!

News item:
Research involving more than 7,000 older women found that those who drink a moderate amount of alcohol have slightly higher levels of mental function than non-drinkers, particularly in verbal abilities, according to researchers at Wake Forest University Baptist Medical Center and colleagues.
“Our research confirms other studies suggesting that for older women who choose to drink – and are not restricted from drinking for medical reasons – moderate alcohol intake is not harmful for cognition and may provide some mental benefits,” said Mark Espeland, Ph.D., lead author.
The study, available on-line in the journal Neuroepidemiology, found that compared to non-drinkers, women who reported drinking up to two or three drinks per day performed better on measure of global cognitive function, which includes concentration, language, memory and abstract reasoning. The women were strongest in verbal skills: those who reported having at least one drink a day did better on vocabulary tests and on a word fluency test asking them to generate a list of words beginning with a specific letter.
Espeland, a professor of public health sciences and chairman of the Department of Biostatistical Sciences, said understanding whether alcohol affects specific areas of cognition may shed light on the mechanisms that make it protective. Possible mechanisms include that alcohol increases levels of “good” cholesterol and lowers the risk of stroke, that it may decrease the formation of plaque that is associated with Alzheimer’s disease and that it may increase the release of brain chemicals that affect learning and memory.


Although... two to three drinks a day seems like more than "moderate" to me.....

I hate this time of year...

No, not because the June gloom is upon us (damn, those foghorns were LOUD this morning!).... and not because I'm about to be a year older...

It's primary election time. And I can't stand the flood of campaign commercials on TV, nor the dozens of slick campaign mailers I get each day and immediately toss in the recycle bin without even looking at them. Does anyone read those things?

I really despise those door-hanger ads, and the proliferation of materials that get shoved through my apartment building's mail slot... and onto the lobby floor. Thanks for the litter, assclowns.

What a waste of money and resources.

I once vowed I'd never vote for a candidate whose campaign littered in my apartment building. But they ALL do it.

I'm a big believer in voting. I consider it both a duty and a privilege. I remember how, as a teenager, I couldn't wait until I was old enough to vote. I've voted in every election since I turned 18.

But now, I just hate the process, which doesn't seem to be about anything more than money and power.