Blame it on the rain

I mean it. If you have younguns at home (and you know who you are), these teacher people who your kids spend so much time with deserve some credit.

Especially when it rains, because after hours sitting there with no recess and maybe just some Heads up 7-up for entertainment, these kids are going stir crazy, and they have driven their teacher (who has had no break all day long) around the BEND.

After an hour teaching science at a new school today, I am ready to fall over. I got the call last week to take over from another teacher. The explanation that I got was that I was replacing someone who had issues with showing up on time.

After teaching the class? I think the person I am replacing may have been admitted to a mental institution. Most classes have two or three boys who are described as being a "problem". I can tell you right now, this class has at least eight.

Most classes of first and second graders can get a little crazy, especially when you show up with a huge black trunk, wearing a white lab coat, assorted blinking pins, and multicolored hairclips. They go WILD.

You get warm fuzzies and wonder if, on the way in from the car, you have somehow turned into a Spice Girl. You hope that if that's the case, it's Ginger, because let's face it- Posh has turned herself into a sun-baked cadaver.

So anyway- kids go wild. They all volunteer to be helpers. The teacher whispers in your ear about the one little boy that you have to "watch every second!- He WANDERS" (gulp) and also informs you that due to an "incident" last week, which she is sure I read about in the newspaper, (which I don't read so, I can only rely on my lurid imaginings- but I didn't confess that to HER) children have to go to the bathroom in pairs.

Due to the torrential rain outside, every time I sent them, it felt strangely like a long-winded television mini-series about Noah's Ark.

So now I am afraid that the little boy in the front will turn into a knife-wielding maniac or disappear at any moment, and that any child who leaves the classroom may have some freak waiting in the bathroom who wants to touch them "in their swimsuit area." The teacher leaves, and the kids commence to running around and screaming and flailing in the way only second graders can flail.

At this point, one of the classroom mothers walks in, and she looks totally unfazed by the ruckus. This is when I should have realized that the ruckus was totally the status quo, and I was in waaaay over my head.

5 seconds later, two little boys run up to me.

"Teacher! TEACHER! Bobby* punched me in the CROTCH!!!!"

"Me tooo...me too! He punched me too!"

I was only warned about a notorious wanderer and a possible recent molestation event- crotch punching seemed even more ominous. The mother smiled and shrugged in a way that indicated that not only was crotch-punching a regular occurrence, but that she didn't really see what I could do about it either.

I think she said, "Now Bobby, that's not nice!" (Which seems like kind of an understatement to me, but that's OK.) And then she left.

I confronted Bobby, who smiled sweetly at me, lied though his teeth, and said that he wasn't Bobby, he was George.

This is when all the little girls started tattling, (Liar! Teacher, he's LYING)in the self-important way that only little girls can tattle. I was immediately engulfed in a squealing sea of pink, bobbing pigtails and frantically upraised and waving hands. I tried fruitlessly not to start hyperventiling.

I made Bobby/George sit by me, (he was not pleased with this arrangement) and started my spiel while I set up. Things went pretty smoothly, until we came to an activity where we had to split into 5 groups of five.

I know second graders can count to five. If they can't. I may have lost my faith in their parents, the school system, and a benevolent God.

I know they can SUBTRACT, because I had two groups yelling Three boys- "But we have only THREEEEEEEE- we need two!" like it was the end of the world, while the two little girls (who were obviously BFF's) right next to them wailed, "But we have only TWOOOOOOOOOOO! We need three!"

I suggested they join forces, and they looked at me like I was the stupidest
stupidhead in all of Stupidville. Evidently the boy/girl cootie war is still alive and well in the second grade, even in this enlightened age.

So. I let the boys be on their own (yes, because I'm a pushover, dammit) and the girls got to me my "assistants." Like most sensible women, they were thrilled to be in a position of authority. I fairly saw their little pink hearts glow through their little pink t-shirts. (For the record, one t-shirt read, "I'm the CUTE one". The other one had a flower on it.)

Anyway. Aside from periodic breaks to go to the bathroom in pairs, the kids seemed engaged (except for Bobby/George, who kept repeating, "This is BOR-RING, and I can't SEE!" at intervals, while I reminded him quietly that next week, if he wanted to sit with the rest of the kids, he shouldn't be slugging them in the genitals.)

At some point, I looked up, and realized that of the three boys who had been together in one group, two of them seemed more freckly than they had at the outset. More unusually, the freckles were bright blue, and the boy in the middle seemed to have escaped the blight. I approached him.

"GIVE ME THE PEN."

"Um, I don't have a pen."

"Give me the PEN. RIGHT NOW."

Evidently, I managed my scary look, because he handed it over. He also gave me a look that bespoke his theory that evey pen in my pen collection had been mercilessly thieved from blameless infants like himself.

So a whole lot of bathroom trips and countdowns (and one cell-phone confiscation warning)later, I made it. I am hoarse, and very nearly deaf. But I made it. And while they definitely kept me on my toes, and I am glad that there's a week between visits, I had a fantastic time. I know. I'm sick like that.

Where else does a kid get a call during class from his "brother's girlfriend"? Has two-timing filtered down to the second-grade demographic? I blame Bill Clinton.

I am also looking forward to the weekend. We are sponsoring a booth at the Kids thing at Grizzlies stadium. I'll be the one in the lab coat, making slime with kids and GETTING PAID for doing it. I am beginning to think that this is the ultimate job. My sister the lawyer is seriously jealous.

* I made up Bobby/George. Which you should have realized, because it seems like every boy under the age of 15 is named things like "Gavin" and "Tarquin" and "Dermot."

And hilarity ensues!

One of my dear friends is in town for part of this week. We proceeded out to my regular watering hole, where we managed to get relatively wasted on three drinks apiece. Holla!

We ended up somehow discussing how much we had changed since we were untying each other's gym shoes in PE in Junior High. TWENTY years ago.(The answer, for the record, is "A Lot." Thank God.)

Another popular topic was "How crazy are YOUR parents?"

T-Bone: So I come home, and my mom is into going to the dollar store or the thrift store and buying random crap.

Me: Okay....

T-Bone: No, NOT ok. Among other bizarre things, she made wind chimes out of discarded silverware. A whole BUNCH of windchimes. We're talking Martha Stewart, but ugly. UGLY.

Me: You know you're getting some to take home with you.

T-Bone: And the crazy thing is... In the last batch? Were a bunch of drug spoons. You know, with the handles bent over?

Me: *snork* Maybe someone took a spoon bending class. Do people still do that? Did you tell her?

T-Bone: YES, of course I did, and her response was, "Oh, but the little loop makes them easier to hang...and they sound great! See....*ting* *ting* *ting*!"

Me: Oh boy. Well, if it makes you feel any better, I'm starting to worry a little bit about mine too. Dad's seriously out of control with the martinis, and the last time I went for dinner, he regaled us with what was essentially a long question: he was evidently very taken with some 18 year old girl who works at The Meat Market, I guess she was wearing low-rise jeans...anyway, he wanted to know how she would have a white heart-shaped mark next to her belly button. He thought it might be a scar.

T-Bone: Oh NO.

Me: So we explained about tanning beds. But you could tell he'd really been THINKING about it, if you know what I mean.

T-Bone: Men are HILARIOUS.

Me: Oh trust me, I know! And then Mom called tonight and said, "I went clothes shopping today, and it was so awful that I am officially On The Slim-Fast."

T-Bone: THE Slim-Fast?

Me: Yes, the one and only. I mentioned that exercise might be helpful, and she stated that she didn't want to commit to a class or a gym, because she wouldn't go. Her idea is that she's going to actually use the ab lounge thingie that she bought, and then for cardio, she can run back and forth down the hall.

T-Bone: Uh....She said she'd run up and down the hall? This is the same woman who has broken both of her feet just walking around in the last two years, right?

Me: That would be her. So I told her that she could try that, but that I was also going to loan her the Walk Away the Pounds DVD's. So hopefully, she'll march in front of the TV instead of bombing back and forth down the hall.

T-Bone: Do you get the feeling that "How Wacky is your Mom? " is going to be a recurring theme?

Me: I'd lay money on it. I mean, you can't make this stuff up.

Snow cone!

I went skiing today.

Yes. The downhill variety- on snow.

I used to be an enthusiastic skiier, about 70 lbs. ago. The thought of having to buy new ski pants has kept me off the slopes for awhile.

But, Squirrel begged me to go (and loaned me some pants.) And- I still love it!

We went to Badger Pass for a half-day, and it was fantastic. At least two feet of powder. I fell once, when I was (unknowingly) tackling a black diamond run. Disclaimer- this was at Badger Pass, where a Black Diamond would be compared to an intermediate slope somewhere else. But even that fall was because I got myself going too fast, and leaned back a little too far. No problem.

But unbelievably, my old parallel stance is still pretty good, and I don't have any aches or pains yet- although I suspect I will be feeling it tomorrow.

In other news, snowboarders (at least the ones I encountered) are a little- "different". Oh, and I am a dork. But that goes without saying.

It was snowing, and I didn't bring a hat- I did have a headband to keep my ears from falling off, and my hair was up in a ponytail of frozen quills. I was attempting to fluff the ice out of it before I got back into Squirrel's car to drive home.

Random Snowboarder: "Hey, don't stress on the hair, looks great!"

Me: "It seems to have turned into a snowcone."

This guy, who admittedly might have been stoned, laughed his ass off. I continued brushing snow off myself, then realized he was still there when he asked,

"What flavor snowcone?"

Obviously, the munchies were setting in.

Me: "Oh...uh....CHERRY."

Snowboarder: "Mmmmmmm....well you know, cherry is everyone's favorite...OWWWW!"

Snowboarder's girlfriend: "Shut UP!!!!"

She dragged him off, with him still mumbling, "Whaaaaat? I didn't say...anything! Man....."

Meanwhile, Squirrel is just- dying. Wheezing. By the time we got to the car, she was making obscene snowcone references, while I protested that I SO TOTALLY didn't mean it that way.

Me: "I have seriously not gotten so desperate that I am randomly hitting on teenaged potheads."

Her: "He was at least thirty."

Me: "Even worse. He sounded like Keanu Reeves in Bill and Ted's. I have standards."

Me: "Anyway, I don't even know what he looks like."

Her: (Breathily, while licking her lips) "CHERRY..."

Me: "Did he have blondish hair? I seem to remember sandy hair and a red jacket."

Her: "Black hair. Green jacket."

Me: "Yes, I OBVIOUSLY want him. Why don't YOU go talk to him?"

Her: "CHERRY!!! Is EVERYONE'S favorite flavor!"

Then she starts singing "Cherry Pie."

Me: "You suck."

I am not sure what the point of this is, except I think it's pretty funny. And is further proof that I am a FREAK MAGNET.

'Cause it's a good day....

I went out to a new school today, and got to teach 2nd and 3rd graders about the planets for an hour.

It was SO MUCH FUN!

They were so excited. They were still relatively well behaved. They were all so very adorable. There was even one of my Jr. Armenian peeps in the class. (He was sooooooooo cute! Like a little olive-skinned cherub!)

They were actually responsive and excited about learning. I was amazed. Some of them actually didn't want to leave at the end of the session.

The only kind of frightening thing was the deafening silence when I told them they were the second class I have ever taught. Oops.

Note to self: Admitting potential weakness- bad idea.

Finale!

Project Runway finale- tonight, baby!


Yes, I know I'm an addict.

I have this strange, sinking feeling that Santino's going to win.

Believe it or not-

I went to the gym today. Where's my parade?

Somehow, I always worry that the "gym people" are going to give me crap about the fact that at one point in my life I was there every day, taking classes, weight training, and doing cardio, and I was 50 lbs. lighter than I am now. However, it's not those "gym people" who say nasty things to me, it's the snide little voice inside my head.

So I went. I forgot how inspiring that place is. It just makes me smile to see a class full of women, the youngest of whom is probably in her late forties, all doing aerobics (with the dance version of "Lift us up where we belong" blaring in the background.)

I also saw a little old lady with her white perm (you know the one I am talking about!)

She was heading slowly throigh the parking lot (towards what I assume is her water aerobics class) wearing what appeared to be an electric purple bathrobe with a red sash, and a pair of neon green Aqua Sox.

Whenever I pull into the parking lot, I have to laugh. It's mostly luxury cars with a few minivans sprinkled in, and all the cars are ivory, gold, silver, or black. The two standouts are my purple Sebring, and then some other upstart has an electric blue PT Cruiser.

So, I went back to my old boyfriend, the Precor Elliptical. Pretty smooth sailing, I just did my 30 minute workout, 5 minute cooldown, and sailed on out the door.

Somehow, I must have blacked out, because I ended up at WalMart. I freaking hate WalMart. Something random always happens to me when I am there, and I can never find what I'm looking for. But Target wasn't open yet, plus I was in my yoga pants and not weating makeup. So I just bit the bullet, zipped up the hoodie sweatshirt, and headed towards the front doors.

Here's the part where I give the shout out to the guy who stalked me all through the place.

Thanks, jerkoff. If I wanted to have you follow me up and down the aisles in the skincare section, through Movies and Electronics, and over into Women's Clothing, I'd be wearing my sign.

I really appreciate the way you kept smacking your lips every time I turned back to glare at you. Nice touch.

While you may think that I'd appreciate the implication that I am irresistible when I am sweaty and makeup-free with scroungy hair under flourescent lighting in a discount store, you are dead wrong.

I do admire your multi-tasking abilities: You made me feel threatened, reinforced my decision never to go back to WalMart, and perpetuated racial stereotypes all at the same time! At least the WalMart decision should be considered a public service. The other two variables kind of suck.

Falling back on Pretty in Pink, I hope it shrivels up and falls off, OK?

-J

Namaste

So- I went back to yoga. I have now been there twice!

Aside from the scary shot of something that they requested we drink...which was vile, let me tell ya! I enjoyed it. I am looking forward to feeling wonderful tomorrow morning.

Then I went with Secret Squrrel and had Thai food.

Squirrel: Ok, that stuff was nasty.

Me: What the hell was it?

Squirrel: Um...Plankton....Aloe Vera?

Me: Oh God. I drank plankton.

Squirrel: Noni berries or something or other?

Me: ...peyote....festering pond water....poop...

Squirrel: Sounds about right.

Me: Hey, if we drink it every day, we'll never die!

Me: Nope, totally not worth it.

I have to say, the yoga instructors are sooooo nice, and they didn't hold a gun to my head or anything, but it's my own damn fault for caving to yoga peer pressure. Damn them and their tranquil fountains and patchouli incense!

In other news, today was my first day at the new job. Teaching first-graders that science can be fun!

I can say that I really really enjoyed it, but, I think that 16 year-olds should be required to teach these classes as a pre-emptive birth control measure.

Me: Ok, I need nine volunteers- each one of you gets to be a planet!

10 kids in unison: I WANNA BE JUPITER! I WANNA BE JUPITER!

Me: Do you guys remember the rule about raising our hands?

8 billion tiny hands go up in the air

Me: (at random) Yes? Which planet do you want to be?

Innocent little boy: The EARTH! Because God made the Earth, right?

Another kid: Yeah, did God really make the Earth? How did he do it?

Me: Uh...

Yes, somehow I survived. But I was sweating by the end of it.

Ladies night, oh what a night.

There is a fairly new ladies night institution chez moi. I go out on Friday nights. The Man stays home and plays "World Of WarCraft." Seriously, he doesn't even realize that I am gone.

I like this arrangement- I get to be all dressed up (who knows, if I am feeling generous, I may even pluck the eyebrows!) and go out and catch up with my buddies, get lightly toasted, and flirt with the waiter.

Yes, it is always the same waiter. And he always remembers what I drink, and I get refills as soon as the glass is empty. LOVE him.

Then I get to have entertaining conversations with Secret Squirrel about her dating disasters, and she gets to listen to my consolation that I do have a husband, but all he's been good for recently is lifting heavy objects and playing World of Warcraft, so she might be better off.

It usually disentigrates into hysterical laughter, off-the wall observations of other bar patrons, and summoning the waiter back so we can leer at him and order a really sinful dessert, which we will share.

Somehow, this has become an institution within only a one-month time span, and to tell you the truth, I don't know how I ever lived without it.

Just keep paving...just keep paving....

What do we do? We pave.



We just managed to get the sand base poured and levelled, and the pavers on- right before the steady drizzle of the rain turned into a brief downpour.

As soon as it let up, we went back out and swept the rest of the sand into the cracks. Voila!




Unfortunately, we did run out of sand- but we're allllllmost done. (Thank goodness.)

On to phase 2 of the projest- benches and a retaining wall. Yeah, I figure it'll take a couple of years for us to get to that point.

"Do I know you?"

I get that a lot. Sometimes they actually do know me, sometimes they don't.

Living in this town as an adult- well, it's the biggest small town I know of. I routinely have people walk up to me, say they recognize me, and ask me what high school I went to.

Most of the time, that's where they recognize me from. Which makes sense, I guess- my hair, eyebrows, and eyeliner usage have been scaled down a little since then, but that's about it.

It really wouldn't be a problem, but high school wasn't really in one of my top ten life experiences, and uh- I seem to have magically blocked it out.

I mean it. Put that together with my total lack of ability to remember names,(sometimes even my own!)and you get some entertaining exchanges.

It happened again today. Most people that I associate with think it's hilarious, because they are familiar with the blank look that I have that means I have NO CLUE who this person is.

Person: Hey- you look so familiar! Did you go to Blankety Blank High?

Me: Yeeeeesssss.....

Person: Ohmigod, Hi! It's me, Brandee! I was in your gym class for three years in a row! Remember?

Me: Um- oh- yeah! Hi!

(Oh crap- I have NO CLUE who this is. And presumably, she has seen me in my underwear. Not to mention the burgundy and gold polyester gym shorts.)

Person: I remember you used to talk about ripping out the rest of our PE teacher's hair out with an Epilady. You were always so...different! Do you still drive your Acura? Married? Where do you work? Got any kids? I have three!!! The oldest one is eleven!!

AAAaaAAaaaAAaaaaa! This is totally why I skipped the reunion.

The only good thing? When she left, I mentioned to a third party, "Oh, I guess I used to go to school with her."

Third Party: Whoa- I figured she was at least ten years older than you!

Ok, that made it kinda worthwhile.

Seriously. It happens almost as much as people accosting me who THINK they know me from somewhere....but they DON'T. There must be someone somewhere in this town who looks like me. Hopefully, she's not a homewrecker and doesn't have a prison record.

When it rains....

You guys know the rest.

All I can say is, I am feeling pretty darn good about 2006 so far.

And when I can say more, you'd better believe that I will!

Open letter to the moron in Vons.

Dear Musclehead:

I am sorry if my purchases offended you. Yes, I eat ground turkey, smoked sausage, and low carb ice cream. And I'm not dead yet- sorry.

I can assume from your cart that you are really, really, really INTO bananas. I am sure that you can gather from my cart that I am on Atkins. Although, since you couldn't remember your own phone number, I may be giving you much more credit for brainpower than you deserve.

I especially like how you got all pissed off when you forgot your Vons card and had a hissy fit until the checkout guy reminded you that the only thing you're buying is bananas, and they're not on special, anyway. Mad props to you!

I don't know if you're a. a vegan, or b. just generally a hemmorhoid on a monkey's butt. I'd bet money on the latter. But from the look of disgust on your face as you gazed FIXEDLY from my purchases, back to me, to my husband, and back to my purchases again, I think you must not be entirely devoid of brain cells. Because we're both a hell of a lot bigger than you. Which is probably why you elected not to spew the lecture that was visibly brewing in your pointy little head.

By the way, the ratty gray cut-off sweats layered over the sassy red bike pants? And the all-pervading reek of testosterone? Nice.

In any case, we do eat produce, but I don't buy it from Vons. I buy organic. Asshole.

Have fun with those bananas! I hope they're infested with tarantulas.

Jenna

Yes!

I got the job. I am so excited!!!! My orientation starts over the weekend.

I don't want to state the name of the company. (While I love Google, I like keeping this thang relatively anonymous). I wish I could share my new title, because it's hilarious, but that would totally give it away.

I can tell you that while it is part-time, I will be making DOUBLE per hour what I was making at my old workplace. I will be working with kids (twelve and under)in classrooms and in after-school programs. I get to be someone who introduces new stuff to kids in a fun and creative way. And? I think I get to wear jeans. JEANS!!!

The gentleman I interviewed with was so very nice. He was wearing an excellent tie. He did not shake hands like Godzilla. And he evidently didn't notice the massive bruise on my forehead.

He did seem slightly uncomfortable with me, either in a "I think you're cute, but we're both very happily married" way, or in a "please don't stomp on me with your big scary boots" way. There was some nervous giggling, so it's hard to tell.

But you know what? I don't care- I am BEYOND thrilled!!!

To top it off, the temp agency finally called almost as soon as I walked through the door- so I just told them where they could stick it. HA!

Hit me baby, one more time!

Whoops.

This is what happens when you and your beloved husband are shoveling dirt at the same time. Yes, I am OK. I just look stupid, and will have the Ginormous Forehead Bruise tomorrow.

(For the record, he feels really, really REALLY bad about this, and it was totally not intentional- but I am still planning to milk it for all it's worth.)

Seriously- every time he complains about anything, all I will have to say is, "Remember that time you hit me in the FACE? With a SHOVEL?!! Two hours before I had to go to a JOB INTERVIEW?!!!!!"

Yeah. I'm thinking I can use this for the next couple of decades.

Pass the cover up!

Oh- and the whole shoveling incident? Is our quest to turn THIS:



Into THIS:



You can see the whole photo set right about HERE.
We're still not even close to done. Although I suspect that I have gotten out of shoveling, at least for the time being.

A phone call from the Great Unknown...

Who knew the voice of the Great Unknown would be so, um.....chirpy?

During the veeeery beginning of my job search (we're talking months ago, actually literally last year, here) I found a listing that looked- well, too good to be true. One of those things where you say, "It sounds so fun- it's probably going to be some scam where I show up and they try to get me to go door to door selling generic perfume."

The description was intriguing though, and I sent an email request to get more info. I got an upbeat e-mail, and a few phone calls, and while the opportunity sounded like a hell of a lot of fun... I had convinced myself that this was not the full-time gig with benefits that I was looking for. As cool as it sounded. So I dismissed them politely.

This morning, The Man and I were in that "what happens now" discussion. The fact that I have to do something, because the size of our credit card bill has become alarming. The temp agency, who can't even BE BOTHERED TO CALL ME BACK about the results of that interview, or to send me out on any new ones, is obviously not working for me. I haven't found anything fantastic whilst browsing the unemployment ads, although I have circled a few, and thus, we get to the point-

I don't really want what I thought I wanted, which is the full-time job with benefits. I want to have the time to work on my writing, which I have been psyching myself out about (the topic of the cosmic kick in the ass I got from my friend last drunken Friday night.) And well, we don't really need me to be in a misery-laden but salaried office position to be comfortable, we just need a little bit extra to fill in the chinks here and there.

I think I actually said, "Damn it, I am sick of this. I just want to take some random part-time job working retail or at a pizza parlor (even though in retrospect, I know what that will do towards my already somewhat jaded view of humanity, not that working in an office would presumably help either.)

And then, the phone rang. I am not kidding.

The Great Unknown called both my cell and at home, and essentially said, "You know, we're looking for someone to fill one spot on Wednesdays- and we keep coming back to your info."

Who am I to disregard the voice of the universe?

I have an appointment with "Matt" this afternoon. Here's hoping he doesn't shake hands like a rabid grizzly bear.

Snap out of it!!

So...

I just got a huge ultra-reality bitch-slap from one of my best friends. It basically took both of us getting wasted for this to happen.

I am so thankful she did it. Because damn, I needed that.

The weirdest part? I think she was afraid that I would be mad at her if she said anything. Nothing could be further from the truth.

I feel so blessed and lucky to have friends who believe in me and encourage me as much as mine do. I guess the next step (the one I have the most trouble with) is believing in myself.

Here goes...

No news is good news?

I don't think so.

Got a call from the agency yesterday, saying that they still have not heard back from the company that interviewed me. Twice. But that they had said that both interviews went really well! Reading between the lines, I am sure that they're not going to send me on any more interviews until they hear for sure, which kind of pisses me off. Since I've been sitting here waiting around for most of the month.

I have decided to start looking on my own. I actually sent a note to my former boss, asking that he give me a heads-up if there's an opening within my old department. I am not sure if he got it, however. And I don't want to send it twice!

So between that and combing the want ads- I am keeping pretty darn busy.

Paris, revisited

So guys, if you want to see more pictures of Paris, I just threw most of the rest up on flickr (careful, they're all higgledy piggledy!)

You can see them here.

Enjoy! (Yes, Neighbor, the Disneyland Paris pics are now uploaded!)

The only pics I haven't uploaded yet include a lot of interior shots of Versailles- those French are picky about flash photography, and a lot of the photos need to be edited, because they turned out pretty dark.

Pardon me, I seem to have melted my spine.

I went to the yoga center last night with Secret Squirrel- just for a regular class.

I have never taken a yoga class before. I am a yoga ignoramus, and thus far, I have been happy that way.

I was actually so freaked out by it- I was seriously expecting a whole class of 20 year old washboard abs type people in coordinated outfits, who could wrap their legs behind their heads and possibly levitate on command. While I strained pathetically to touch my toes.

Me: Please tell me I won't have to do a handstand.

Squirrel: You won't have to do a handstand. It's a beginner class.

Me: Okay. I but I bet they're going to adjust my form constantly. I probably manage to stand in some way that throws my chakras out of alignment.

Squirrel: You'll be fine.

Me: I don't know if I can handle an activity that forces me to be barefoot.

Squirrel: Now you're just being ridiculous.

Me: What exactly is the chi? And how do I know it is flowing?

Squirrel: OK, shut up.

So we sign up, I took off my shoes and stash them (ACK!) and we go unroll our mats and hide in the back corner of the room.

Instructor: Ok, I think we are going to try a handstand first thing today!

Me: I hate you. I hate you with the fire of a thousand suns.

Squirrel: He's joking. He's just kidding.

Instructor: (contorting into several humanly impossible poses) Ok, you can try it this way.....or this way!

Me: I don't think he's kidding.

Instructor: Come on guys! Let's go!

Me: $%#@!

Aside from being terrified right off the bat, it was actually cool. There were women in the class who were bigger than I am, and the female instructor is very warm in person and also, very "natural" looking. All different levels were in the class, and to be honest.....

I always thought yoga was a bunch of patchouli-scented hocus-pocus. The class was a little out-there for me (lots of breathy instruction while your eyes are closed, and focusing on your breathing). I also felt like, while some poses required quite a bit of effort, I am very used to traditional aerobic exercise, and I was feeling like the whole experience was kind of pointless.

That is, until this morning. I slept like the dead last night, and woke up feeling FANTASTIC. I was completely relaxed. Which never happens for me. Then I stretched, and felt even better. It was insane.

So- I am going back!
Crap- I guess I am going to have to buy some "yoga pants." Whatever the hell those are.

SNAKES....on a PLANE!!!!

hahahahahaaaaa.....


I can't believe this is a real movie. I laugh every time I hear it.

P.S. No job news yet. Not a good sign. :(

"Throttling"- typically, something you want to do to someone you're frustrated with.

So- remember my previous rant about Netflix?

I guess it wasn't just all in my head. A ton of articles have been coming out recently about how they limit people who meet the profile of "heavy renters."

Isn't the whole friggin' point of the service the "unlimited rentals" that we were supposedly going to be getting? Or am I craaaaaaaaazy?

I thrill when I drill a bicuspid!

So. Dental news, but nothing on the job front yet.

First of all, my dentist is awesome. He's one of my Armenian peeps, he seens to find my macabre sense of humor endearing, and he is a patient individual.

Which is why, when I showed up in his office and told him that my teeth hurt, and he did x-rays and scraped around with the little scratchy thing, and I got so used to biting down on different objects that I accidentally bit him on the finger TWICE (poor man)and he STILL didn't find anything- he was at least nice about it, and didn't accuse me of being out of my mind.

The culprit was eventually determined to be one very sensitive upper tooth with thin enamel from grinding against the lower tooth directly beneath, whch had tons of enamel. Complicated by the fact that I seem to have a very slight crossbite. Thanks, ruthless orthodontist!

So- the drill came out. Anyone else agree that the sound of the dentist drill is the worst sound in the whole world? It's like the noise a 300 lb. mosquito would make. AAAAaaaaAAAAaaaaaaaa! Find a happy place, find a happy place!!!

So- the lower tooth was given a little trim, and almost immediately, everything else was fine. Easy peasy.

Then last night, wet to SN'B (haven't been in three weeks, mostly due to my unholy Project Runway addiction.) It was so good to see eveyone, plus some new faces (Rhiannon and Jessica, or any other Fresno knitters- if you're reading, you should come on out! Piazza Del Pane, every Wednesday at 7PM.) We had a blast, and I drank coffee mindlessly, which is probably why I was up til' 4AM.

Then we watched Project Runway and the Olympics. I cannot wait to see the PR finale next week, because I am a huge dork. At least I knitted the whole time- I am very nearly done with my Recycled Silk Bag, Mark II.

OH!! Just got a call from the temp agency- they have two ore interviews, so I should have the 411 on the job by this evening. Please, send good karma my way! (I'll even shake hands with that guy again.)

Round 2

Ok- I made it to my second interview.

I am a little freaked out, but that's OK. I have come to the conclusion that I interview better with women than with men.

Do I need to tell you that I interviewed with two men? Both of whom started out being dryer than toast? And my original interviewer was nowhere to be seen? Although I was reassurred that I would be working for directly for her, if I get this job.

And hopefully if they do hire me, I won't have to shake this one guy's hand anymore. Because, DAMN. I have a pretty firm grip for a woman, but his handshake is like being seized and beaten against a tree by a rabid grizzly bear. He also looks like the guy from L.A. Confidential. No, not Russell Crowe- Guy Pearce:

I still do want the job, by the way. But I know they are interviewing other people, and I am beginning to freak out.

In other news, I have to go to the dentist today to check out this mysterious heat sensitivity on the right side of my mouth. I have a sneaking suspicion that I have either fractured some enamel somewhere, or that I am harboring a big ass cavity. No conversation hearts for me! (Please God, don't let me need a root canal....)

I am such a little ray of sunshine today.

Jenna's Velociraptor Theory

OK, here goes-

I have this theory that men are like velociraptors.

The men I have relayed it to seem to enjoy the vision of themselves as sharp-toothed predators running amok, and the women I have told seem to relate to it, as long as they've seen Jurassic Park (Who hasn't?)

Men are like velociraptors.

If you do happen to entrap one, they do OK in captivity, but they will always feel the need to check the fences. These fences, it goes without saying, need to be in place before the velociraptor is lured into the corral. Otherwise, he will just snarl at you and charge back out again, and you'll look and feel kind of stupid.

Anyway. The nasty shocks from the electrification tend to keep them in check, but one day they might get bored and charge the fence, just for kicks. Alas! There was a power surge or something, and your velociraptor is now running unchecked through the underbrush.

Eventually, your velociraptor may get tired of rampaging, and start to feel a little tired and hungry. (Or he'll get old and skanky and not be able to catch prey anymore, and die a horrible lonely death.)

In the event that he cannot figure out how to open doors and devour succulent small children who are hiding in the kitchen, he may decide that he was probably better off in the corral. Admittedly, he had less room to run around, but got provided with tasty goat tartar, not to mention protection from larger predators like the T-Rex or global warming.

When and if the velociraptor comes back, you must be prepared. You can take him back in, as long as you reinforce the barricades. If you have already entrapped a new velociraptor, you can either shoo him away or immobilize him with your handy tranquilizer gun and see who comes first- T-Rex, or those icky frilled lizard looking thingies. Presumably, this will both relieve your feelings and serve as a powerful visual to your new captive.

If you do welcome him back into the fold, fence-testing is just a regular part of his life, and makes him feel like he is still a powerful reptilian entity.

The Man: "What if the velociraptor learns to jump?"

Me: "You're seriously better off without him."

The Universe Responds....

YES!!!!!!

I have a second interview.

Or, as it was phrased to me, I am scheduled to "Meet the owners of the company, and go on a tour of their facility." GULP. But I feel like I must be a front-runner, since the slot for my interview is first thing in the morning, and I got the call after she'd finished interviewing for the day today.

I am really excited. I had a great time talking to my interviewer, and the concept of working for a woman who has a cute hairstyle and is neither incompetent OR a misogynist (no, not a typo!) seems very refreshing to me.

Of course, my second interview may be a result of us discussing the various home improvement projects we had undertaken, and me giving her some helpful tips about circa 1970's wallpaper removal. I may have said something like, "Hey, if you hire me, I'll let you borrow my wallpaper steamer!"

OK, I actually did say that. See?!! Bribery works!!!!

In the meantime, I need to find some business-like clothing and try to refrain from exhibiting any symptoms of Tourette's Syndrome.

So whatever you guys are doing at 8AM next Tuesday (Valentine's Day!)please send some positive thoughts my way!

Maybe I can be a research assistant?

According to an informal poll, parrots who live in my house prefer Madonna songs over Bruce Springsteen songs by nearly 80%.*

However, Gwen Stephani still leads Madonna by a narrow margin.

*This data was determined by the general number of "woo hooooooooooooooooos!" uttered during each song.

Stuff we do when nobody's looking. (Whipped cream, part 2)

No, it's not dirty. Freaks.

I hear the telltale noise of the whipped cream cannister, and come into the kitchen to investigate. I catch The Man standing in front of the fridge, dispensing directly into his mouth.

Me: "HEY!"

TM: (evil grin) "Nyoo wan some?"

Me: "Uh...yes."

Do I need to tell you guys that this promptly evolved into a whipped cream fight? And that I won?

Granted, I used unsportsmanlike tactics (blinding with dairy dessert products). But hey, I still won!

Damn, no wonder we are always running out of that stuff.

The moral of the story- read the manual?

So The Man and I are low-carbing it, at least for awhile (I think I have covered this!)

Anyway. For our wedding, we got some gifts from a far-flung relative of mine- An elaborate wine corkscrew, and some contraption which you can use to make your own whipped cream. It just takes a few shakes and a little help from a teeny cannister of nitrous oxide.

Ok. The Man tends to drink beer, and I drink martinis, but we have a glass of wine every once in awhile,so we knew we'd use the wine opener. But the whipped cream dispenser seemed to be a little bit of an anomaly. Not to mention, it was from Sur La Table, which doesn't have a location near Fresno, and it just seemed like a lot of bother to return it.... So, yeah. We summarily banished it to the back of a dark cabinet and promptly forgot all about it.

Until about Day 3 of Atkins (so, about 4 years later), when I was getting sick and tired of beating the hell out of whipped cream every night and then having to wash a bowl AND the little beater things so we could have some with our sugar-free Jell-O for dessert.

Somehow, I remembered the whipped cream dispenser and thought, "What the hell!" I rescued it from its dusty cupboard, and I whipped up a Splenda Sweetened batch, and it was everything that whipped cream should be.

Needless to say, we have been going through whipped cream like there's no tomorrow. To the point where I have had to ration it, because those little cannisters of nitrous have to be special-ordered online, and heavy cream gets expensive when you have to buy, say, 4 containers of it a week.

Somehow, we needed a new batch the other night, and The Man volunteered to try this contraption out for the first time ever. Which basically means that I stayed in the living room watching Project Runway, and he yelled to me from the kitchen when he needed moral support.

TM: "Ok- how much cream do I put in?!!"
Me: "Half the little carton!!!!"
TM: "How much Splenda??!!!!"
Me: "Five Packets!!!!!"
TM: "OK!!!! I am screwing the lid on!!!!"
Me: "OKAY!!!!"
(Long pause)
TM: "Now what?!!!"
Me: "Do you want ME to come do this?!!!"
TM: "I'M doing it!!!!!!!"
Me: (sighing)"Ok! Swirl the container to mix. Put the little nitrous cartridge into the chamber, then twist it to charge the cannister!!!!!"
TM: "OK, now what?!!"
Me: "Shake the cannister 4-5 times, then you should be ready to go!!!"

I hear the sound of shaking, a really loud POOF! noise, and then-

TM: "OH SH*T!!!!!"

Knowing that this is never a good sign, I come running into the kitchen. There is whipped cream splattered- all over the floor, all over the cabinets, all over the kitchen windows, and all over my husband's hair, face, glasses, and shirt (even the back- I am not sure how he managed THAT!)

We both start laughing hysterically. The cat decided that we are both incapacitated, and possibly insane, so he sensibly starts slurping up the cream on the floor like all his Christmases have come at once.

Me:(gasping for air)"You are SO cleaning this up!"

Still waiting....

C'mon Universe- I definitely deserve some good karma!

My interviewer did inform me that the boss will be out of the office until later on this week, so she wouldn't be able to make a decision until then. Even though I have privileged information, I still suck at waiting.

In the meantime, The Man and I decided to actually do useful stuff today: for example, we put away the 14 boxes of Christmas stuff.

We're also preparing to turn in our tax stuff, and he has some extra $ coming in this month. So we've been discussing the possibility of going to Vegas, just the two of us, for a couple of days- since things are calming down for him, and my unlimited play-time is soon coming to a close, we figured it might be our last hurrah for awhile. We haven't taken a serious vacation together since our honeymoon.

After discussions, We decided that we should just have a "home vacation". Meaning we just spend time together, relax, and maybe do some long-put-off projects around the house. I know- we're such home-bodies.

Plans are in the works for a big vacay next year- when the cars and credit cards will both be paid off, so we won't feel quite so guilty for splurging. And to be honest, the notion of going away somewhere right now just leaves me cold.

So tonight, we decided to begin the transformation of our bedroom into our very own B&B. I have so far gotten rid of about 60 lbs. of clothing. Mostly mine.

WHAT the hell was I thinking?! A lot of this stuff dated back at least 4 or 5 years, when I had lost a bunch of weight, and judging from many of my clothing choices, I evidently thought I was Gwen Stephani and Beyonce COMBINED.

From the look of things, I thought I would be going out to dance clubs every night for the rest of my life. Tons of slinky little tops and leather mini skirts and metallic or uh, wildly patterned (purple leopard print!!!! Was I on crack?!)dresses, all lovingly stored away for the day when I would fit back into them.

Looking at it, I realized how much my life has changed, and how very inappropriate it all is now. It seems like those clothes were worn by a completely different person.

Anyway, I tossed it all, so the girls on G street will hit the jackpot, if they head over to the Goodwill.

So now, there is room in my closet for the stuff that I actually wear, and it all fits me. The stuff that's a size or two smaller all fits in the under-bed storage. The toppling pile of notes and literature that once dwarfed my bedside table is now gone. I can actually see my bedroom floor. And The Man has promised to pare down his collection of black, brown, and white t-shirts to a mere ten of each color. So the the next 60 lbs. of stuff we give away is pretty much a given.

The upshot? For the first time in nearly 6 months, I can actually see my bedroom floor, AND the top of both dressers, my vanity, and the loveseat. Yes, I cheerfully admit it- we are both complete slobs.

Here's what we found:

The Man's blue dress shirt (behind my dresser)
10 bucks (I don't know whose pocket it fell out of, but it's mine now)
8000 black rubber bands (evidently a bag exploded)
Generic Vicodin
The other cat (actually, a ginormous dust bunny)
hair elastics (estimated number- one bajillion)
Misc. earrings
toe rings from Target, circa 2001
Fax re: my medical info, circa 2002
My paperwork from my last generous raise at The Company Which Shall Not Be Named- (Sixteen cents. Yeah. We discussed burning it in effigy, but decided that even retroactively, it just wasn't worth the effort.)
And extra Harry Potter Book (which was supposed to be a grad gift for someone- uh, last JUNE)
2 pairs of red satin gloves (one pair from each time I was Cruella De Vil for Halloween)
Renegade underwires
Jimmy Hoffa
The belt from my leopard bathrobe (Hey, at least it's not PURPLE!)
Broken hangers
My sanity (residual)

Evidently, it was a Good Hair Day.

Okay, peeps!

So, I went to the interview. Got all dolled up (aka, ditched the glasses and put on makeup, attempted to remove lint from various areas of my person, etc.)

I walk into the lobby, and there are a bunch of women working behind a big window. They all smile at me, and I give them my name and let them know who I am waiting for. The lady writes this down, and then gushes, "I just have to tell you, you have the most beautiful hair I've EVER SEEN."

Wow! I thanked her, and decided to take this as a good omen. Then I got called back into the inner sanctum.

I don't want to say too much, but I really liked my interviewer, and she evidently doesn't suffer from hair envy, because she seemed to like me too. We laughed a lot, which is always a good thing. You know, unless they are laughing AT you. (Fortunately, this was the "laughing with" variety.)

Then I went out to sushi with Secret Squirrel. When I walked out to the car, she blurted out, "You look....like one of Charlie's Angels!!! Your hair looks amazing!"

My hubby just came home and said the same damn thing. This is getting freaky.

What's my secret? Evidently, it's cheap-ass shampoo. Well, that and not wearing my hair in the customary big wad on top of my head.

I just ran out of my usual John Frieda Brilliant Brunette (around 8 bucks a bottle, $5.99 on sale), and for the past week I have been using Flex Extra Body, which is from the 99 cent store, y'all. I normally only use it to get the henna out of my hair, because it counteracts the infamous henna "frozen peas" smell. I am thinking it's going to be MY shampoo from now on. And hopefully, I will hear about the interview sometime next week!

*chirp*chirp*

That's supposed to acknowledge the crickets, guys. Sorry it's taken me so long to check in. It's been- well, a little distracted aound here.

I just got a call from the temp agency. I have an in-person job interview today, with the same company that I had a phone interview with earlier this month. So it looks like the good thoughts you guys sent my way are working- Thank you! And if you wouldn't mind, please keep sending 'em....I think I am gonna need 'em.

Interviews are from 11 AM to 2 PM, so if they're seeing one person every half-hour, that means that they're seeing around eight people total. Here's hoping I stand out from the pack! It does pay more than my last job at The Company Which Shall Not Be Named-I actually think it's salaried, and they pay 100% of benefits.

So, all my fingers are crossed. We'll see how it goes.

DUH squared

I just realized- the 17th was my blogiversary!

A smidge over a year ago, I started posting my menus and exercise logs online. Eventually, I quit watching what I ate and exercising, so I actually had to, you know, discuss other (debatably more interesting)stuff.

Now I am kind of in-between. Perhaps I have mellowed with time?

Here's the part where you all say "DUH".

Ok. While I am still slightly persnickety with Netflix, I just made an important discovery. Because I can't sleep, dammit.

You can rent workout DVD's, kids. Even Carmen Electra's striptease series. So, you can rent it and you'll know if you can't get through, say, the first 15 minutes due to excessive laughter brought on by all the ass-slapping. BEFORE you shell out the big money at Amazon. Holla!

I also found how-to dance DVD's, and I bet they have a ton of other handy stuff.

Skinny jeans!

Ok- not technically skinny. But the jeans that I bought a month ago, knowing that they were able to zip with difficulty, but were too tight to actually button them?

Those babies fit. Perfectly. And all it took was 4 lbs! I know I have lost inches, so I guess I am going to start keeping track of those too.


Also, news from another alternate universe- I exercised both yesterday and today. I was in the privacy of my own home, and I had a blast.

I know- it must be a sign of the apocalypse!

A kinder, gentler Jenna

Today was...well, it was lovely. Please keep in mind that today may be Monday for the rest of you, but for The Man and I, today was Saturday. WOO!

Slept in this morning. Went to a movie last night, and a matinee today (thumbs up!) Loved "Tristan and Isolde". Liked "The Family Stone". Still gotta see "Memoirs of a Geisha" and "Munich", and possibly "Brokeback Mountain."

I should say, most of you who read this have joined me in a period where weight loss hasn't been a focus for me- and it's going to be more of a focus from now on, although I do promise not to post menus and sweat over every carb and calorie, because- let's face it- that shizz isn't exactly fascinating, even for me. But there will be trials and tribulations and updates posted, probably on a weekly basis.

Also, knitting is going to come into the picture more. I have basically abandoned the old sweatergrrrl blog, and although there are a ton of "knuggles" who read this, project photos shall be forthcoming.

Back to "The Fat!"

I am down 1/2 lb. from my starting weight, as of today. Hallelujah- I can stop obsessing over the 2 lb. gain! The low carb magic finally seems to be kicking into gear for me. Although, the pork rinds are still not looking appetizing. But I can see where they would come in handy for breading and such.

Exercise starts on Wednesday. So Neighbor, if you see a possibly insane individual shaking her thang to salsa music through the front windows, it's probably moi. But with any luck, I will remember to close the blinds before I actually get my groove on. Weight training will have to wait. I am a little terrified, since I managed to wrench SOMEBODY's screen door off the hinges with my superhuman strength last night.

Working in some exercise and drinking my 64 oz. of water are my two big goals for this week.

Oh, and file under "There is a GOD!" I have news from "the Workplace That Must Not Be Named." Evidently, The Guy Who Was a Total Dick and Was Therefore Made a Supervisor (hereafter TGWWaTDaWTMaS) quit last Friday after just one month of actual supervising, and went to go work for an "unnamed competitor". And there was much rejoicing.

The one where I am cranky, and random stuff happens to my boobs.

So. Still doing Atkins. Still up one pound from my original weigh-in- my STARTING weight.

Grrrrrrrr. I gave up mint chocolate chip ice-cream cake for THIS?!

In other news, I have a sink full of dishes, and a hell of a lot of stuff to clean up. This is because we are eating every meal at home (see above re: Atkins) and I feel like I am always either cooking or cleaning up.

The Man, to pacify me, made omelettes the other day. He got very creative and used pastrami, but hey, as long as I didn't have to cook, I didn't really care. The omelettes were so huge, we ended up plastic-wrapping both plates and eating the rest for lunch.

Then he sweetly offered to clean up. Which he did, in a sense, although I was slightly miffed to see that he'd just dumped both plates into the sink without bothering to rinse them, and with the cellophane still attached. And then put a whole bunch of nasty stuff on top of them.

Trust me- digging through sink sludge for stray cellophane (say that 5 times fast!) doesn't do a lot to improve your mood.

The last few days have been interesting- I actually went outside (!) and headed over to my aunt & uncle's new house- to see the house, as well as my cousin and his wife and kids, whom I haven't seen in about 2 years. The little girls were both in my wedding, and they have gotten so big!

The highlight of the afternoon was my other cousin's son, who is about 3 1/2. When I came in, everyone said hi to me and hugs were distributed.

Cute little curly-haired boy- "You're not Jenna!"

Me- "Really? Thanks for letting me know. Who am I, then?"

CLCHB- "You're JENNIFER."

Me- "Am not!"

CLCHB- "Are too!"

Me- "Ok. Well, come and give me a hug anyway."

He runs to me and I scoop him up, and he declares, "I love Cousin Jenna!" Then he gave me a magnanimous pat on the boob. Granted, he is breast-fed, but it was a little unexpected.

A friend of mine from college was also in town this week, with her 4 1/2 month old son, who is ADORABLE, and who sweetly slept though dinner at P.F. Changs without a peep. I managed to convince her to let me carry him the next day, when we went on our excursion to Ancient Pathways (yarn shoppe extraordinaire!) and he flirted and smiled obligingly at everyone.

Then I was holding him, I felt this odd pressure, and then- yikes! The little guy (also breast-fed) had just sort of latched on like a little lamprey, and I had to figure out how to carry him facing outward for a little while.

After some discussion with The Man, we decided that there's a tractor beam somewhere in the vicinity of my cleavage.

Yes, I am lazy.

Either that, or it's existential despair.

The diet that I am on? The Man is on it too. He is losing weight just fine.

I, on the other hand, have gained two pounds. This is seriously beginning to make me question the existence of a higher power. Even though I have lost inches.

If you ask me if I'm exercising, I will just laugh at you, and you can feel free to take that as a no. Hopefully it will all work itself out.

Now you make the scene all day...but tomorrow there'll be hell to pay

"Hell", by the Squirrel Nut Zippers. One of my favorite songs, it was an obscure hit like, 10 years ago. It's my cell ringtone. Nobody ever recognizes it.

Until yesterday, when I went shopping with my Mother-in-Law and sis-in-law. Who are the last two people I would ever think would know it- but they started singing along with my phone!

Then I sort of remembered being Christmas shopping, and people around me chuckling when my phone rang.

Turns out, there's a reality show called Family Plots, about a family undertaking business, and "Hell" is the theme song. Who knew?

Ugh.

So you guys know I went to the temp agency yesterday, right? Well, you prolly didn't, 'cause I didn't tell you. But now, you know. And According to G.I. Joe, that's half the battle.

So.

I had a phone interview yesterday.

All I can say is, I really hate it when you call someone that you don't KNOW, then they introduce themselves, there's a muffled convo with SOMEONE(s) who you're not introduced to, and then they say, "Is it OK if I put you on speakerphone?"

Sheesh, people! Are you Penn, and you just have Teller in the background?

I need to know who my audience is. I have to turn on The Charm. Since, you know, I am supposed to impress you and not come off looking/sounding like an idiot.

Especially if all I hear out of the "audience" is occasional rumblings and chuckling in the appropriate places. (Dear Lord, let there not be inappropriate chuckling!) So yeah, I was flying blind, plus I was on my cell phone in a PARKING LOT due to circumstances beyond my control. In retrospect, I think I did OK.

I got the biggest reaction when I introduced the concept of the 1 thru 5 employee rating system that was used at my last job. (This was in response to a question about differentiating a standard employee from an excellent employee- I said "The excellent employee goes the extra mile- I want to work in a situation where that will be appreciated! Yes, you guys can use that someday if you want.) And then I told this story.

When I first started working at my last Company Which Shall Not Be Named, I got my first review. And it was a good review- I was a new employee, and I basically got 3's on everything. I was Acceptable. It was on paper and everything!

The next year, I transitioned into a job with a lot more responsibility. I came in on weekends. I showed up early. I sweated bullets. I worked overtime. I did the 30 minute lunches. (Remember that, some of you?) And when review time came around, I still got a "3" on the "attendance & promptness" portion of my review.

When I questioned it, I was told that I shouldn't be upset, because a "3" meant Meets Expectations, and a 4 was for "exceeds expectations", and a 5 was for "exceptional performance". And since they EXPECTED me to be there early every day and work weekends and overtime, they couldn't in good conscience give me a 4.

Damn- how do you get a FIVE? Move into my cubicle? Kiss some serious ass? WHAT??! I bet ERIC gets a FIVE.... (No, I didn't say that. But y'all know you were thinking it.)

So- when I addressed that story and sent it out into the speakerphone void, I got the background chuckle. I don't know if it was "Lawd, you must have worked for a bunch of dumb ass-clowns!" kind of chuckle, or a "The world ain't fair sweetheart, WE don't even give paid holidays, just grab the counter and bend over like the rest of us" kind of chuckle. So.

Then they(?)asked me if I had any questions for them, or if there was anything I felt that they should know about me. The part that disturbs me is that I don't remember what I said. I know I didn't scream "WORLD PEACE!" and smack my head repeatedly against the dashboard of my car. But I remember coming close to it.

They said they had a few other positions open that I might be interested in, which I can only see as a good thing.

Think good thoughts for me, people!

Change Bandit

Ok, this is hysterical.

I have been stashing change I find around the house and then rolling it up whenever it occurs to me.

Last night, one of my purses fell off the bed while I was reading a book or something, and change cascaded out onto the floor. The Man rolls his eyes and says, "OK- I am going to count all this up."

I had about 8 bucks (mostly in quarters) at the bottom of my purse. He starts going off about me like I am some endearing little squirrel with a hoarding problem, and so I decided to humor him and drag out all my old, forgotten, and abandoned purses to see what the result would be.

Oh My GOD.

Well, all I can say, is that we'll never starve! I guess this bad habit I have of not ever making change has finally paid off.

Between all my stuff, including jacket pockets, the grand total came to: $88.93. Not all of this was change- I found two fives in one purse, and a big wad of ones in another. My only defense is that both of these purses date back to when Alan was overseas, and I was doing a lot of drinkin'.

Plus I found:
3 sets of chandelier earrings
4.5 sets of regular earrings
3 necklaces
4 barrettes
1 ring
two pair (clean) socks and underwear (this was in the abandoned gym bag)
Spare pair of prescription glasses
19 ponytail elastics
Innumerable hairpins
Lipstick for days- at least 5, not counting lip gloss, which seems to breed in captivity.
One compact
6 pairs of sunglasses
The heel of a shoe (how did that happen?)
Pens galore- 3 ballpoint, 7 rollerball, two felt-tip, and one forest green dry erase (where the hell did I get that?)
Old checks
two lost pieces from my manicure set
nail glue
empty bottle of perfume
my old SS card
Post-it pads
a whole lotta lint
a lighter and a pack of Djarum clove cigarettes- full, minus one. (Also from The Man overseas period)
tons of miniscule knitting paraphanalia
lint
pepper spray
feminine protection
Old medication
petrified gum and tins of altoids.

And that's only the tip of the iceberg.

Yeah, it's starting again.

The Man and I sat down last night and we hatched ourself a plan. Well, OK, a whole BUNCH of plans. Regarding work and school and lifestyle for the both of us.

It was weird. So I now have a list of goals, things that I want to do, and am in the planning stages of setting mini-goals to reach the big-ass goals. Doing this, I realized how much a lot of the mini-goals are interconnected, and that I am basically being a big wuss and just sort of "not seeing the forest for the trees" as far as handling my life goes.

Was that vague enough?

OK. Essentially, one of my goals is to become a more responsible pet owner. Another is to get regular exercise. A third is to lose some damn weight, already.

This would be the part where the universe points at me and says, "WALK the dogs, you idiot!!!"

Not two birds, three. THREE birds with one stone. So, I will be dog walkin'.

Lose weight + save money + eat at home= meal planning. Three more birds.

You can play count the cliches if you want (I did, and I am posting this anyway!) but it makes me feel better to have a plan, it's sticking to it that is gonna kind of suck, but if it gets me to where I want to be, then I guess I better get used to it!

Paging Martha Stewart...

Whew!

So, The Man and I had the big sit-down conversation today. He is changing jobs- possibly. Going from something that is salaried to something that is all about commission is giving me the heebie jeebies, but I have faith in him.

However, I am activating the JUST IN CASE scenario. So as of right now, I am looking for another job, preferably full-time....because you know, the mortgage has to be paid.

In the meantime, we are battening down the hatches, just in case things get hairy for a little while. I am scaling back on grocery shopping, which means that the dogs are getting the Costco-brand chow instead of the Iams, and The Man's Tillamook cheese is in dire jepoardy.

Also, instead of redoing stuff in the house completely, I am re-vamping instead, and completing projects that have been overdue for quite some time. Hence, the new curtain that is now hanging in the front window- I made it myself!

My charming Neighbor assures me that he can no longer glimpse me running to and fro, which means it will be much easier to avoid those pesky door-to-door vacuum salespeople. (Tip- Cut them off, tell them you have a Dyson. They'll literally throw up their hands and walk away.)

But, yes. More curtains are in the works for in the den, kitchen, living room, and our bedroom and then tomorrow heralds a new era- the living room will be primed (over the re-texturing I ended up doing myself). We've had the paint, unopened, for almost two years, people. I have been waiting for The Man to do it, all this time. Craaaaazy!

And the picture frames I have been collecting? Will be filled with pictures of actual friends and family members, instead of the generic couple that we don't know. And they will be HUNG ON THE WALL in our living room in an artful grouping for all to see.

Also on the agenda- instead of re-facing the kitchen cabinets, I am going to try a whitewash technique and switch out the hardware. We have the materials for every single one of these projects, and dammit, I am getting it DONE!
I found hardware on Ebay that I really like, and I decided to bypass the original stuff that I loved.

When all was said and done, the total for everything we needed to change out from our current hardware to the opulent Moroccan glass was about $250, and I couldn't rationalize it...and I felt that they might not be easy to clean, or stand up well to the wear and tear in my kitchen. So I went for the $40 eBay solution. I will probably break down and order the fancy stuff later for our hall and master baths- hey, 6 knobs are a lot more reasonable than the 23 knobs and 7 pulls I had to order for the kitchen!

The Man has been informed that there will be crown moldings going up eventually, and also that their are wooden boxed pelmets in the works for our window treatments. Yes, he is afraid. But he is also afraid of the idea of me using power tools unsupervised. I think it's crossed his mind that I may decide to make my own skylight or something at this point.

Can you guys tell I spent the day watching HGTV?

What the hell?

If you go into Cost Plus and get the checker who bears a striking resemblance to Pat...Seriously, RUN THE OTHER WAY.

Me: Hello!

Pat: *dour expression, wordlessly starts running my stuff through the register.*

Me: Ooooooooookay.

Pat:*holds up bracelet and sighs audibly* I need you to get me another one of these, this one has no price on it.

Me: Uh.....sure.

I come back with the bracelet. She's staring at the rest of my bagged purchases. She takes the bracelet from me and scans it, puts it into the bag.

Pat: Thirty three oh four.

I give her the money. She gives me a receipt.

Me: Thanks.

NO RESPONSE. She doesn't look at me or even hand me my bags.

Me: (again)Thanks. *pause* YOU'RE WELCOME, Goodbye!

I finally grabbed my bags off the counter and left. What the hell? She didn't even ask for my zip code, and you know, the peeps at Cost Plus live for that.

YES!!!!

OK. So, maybe uploading some chicken soup into my iPod wasn't a realistic solution.

However, I found the next best thing if you ever happen to acquire a sick iPod.

I tried it, and my little iPod is up and running once more! Woooohooooo!

arrrrgh!

My iPod is sick.

It turns on, and I can scroll and select, but nothing will play on it.

It is on the older side- a third generation. I love it to pieces, and it is killing me to think I may have to send it to the glue factory (not to mention I priced the new ones, and it's 400 bucks for a stinkin' replacement.)

What does one do with a sick iPod? Are they fixable? Do I just upload some chicken soup and hope for the best?

What the hell?!!!

I am AWAKE. I have been awake since 3AM. Crap. I am guessing that this is The Universe's way of telling me to clean the kitchen.

To which I say, "Screw you, Universe! I am watching some seriously BAD TV instead."

Slightly more uplifting!

Sorry, I know that last one was a downer. But it did help me to write about it.

In the spirit of the season, I'd like to return to my usual topics- the unbridled joy of aquisition, and my bizarre family dynamics.

I have (for now, at least- ask me again next week) mended the fences with my Mother-In-Law. On the condition that I am hosting a Christmas Eve get-together next year at our house, just for their family. It's official, I have sold out and am becoming a grown-up. She loved the scarf I had made for her, as well as the blown-glass angel ornaments I brought her back from France. It's a Festivus miracle!!!!!

Christmas Eve meant a nice dinner out with my family (as detailed earlier) and then The Man's brother and his wife showed up to hang out. The four of us exchanged presents, and I was thrilled to see my long-awaited CrockPot!

I also distributed gifts from France- Angora hats and matching pashmina shawls for my sister-in-laws, and a coffee mug with the Paris Metro map on it and a big Chocolate Euro for my brother-in-law. We guzzled champagne and took the opportunity to RELAX, which was much needed. The Man and I didn't get to bed until after one AM. Christmas morning was there before I knew it.

This was the first year my entire immediate family wasn't together for the holiday. My little brother (the one who is getting married) celebrated with his fiancee's family this year. I got a forlorn message from him half-way through the afternoon, which read: "&*^%!, I miss you guys! Hope you're having fun...without ME."

My extended family is also fragmenting- aunts and uncles were off with their married children and their grandchildren, so a gathering of around 25 was whittled down to...5 people.

Then at the last minute, my parents friends and their kids were deprived of their Christmas destination when Grandma caught the flu- and then the same thing happened to my aunt and uncle when my cousin succumbed as well. Poor Mom- 5 people turned into 11 overnight, and all the stores were closed! However, she'd done cooking on the Armenian scale, so we were all stuffed anyway.

The Man had to work. Everyone was saying how awful it was, and I just headed them off by saying, "I'm just thankful that he's on U.S. soil this year." I took our stockings over to Mom and Dad's, so I wouldn't have to open things all by myself Christmas morning.

We opened family presents- I had knit my mother a scarf per her request, and I had used recycled silk- she loved it, which was a relief. She also got an address book. Dad got three sets of John Wayne DVD's from me, and my sister got a silver bracelet with multicolored stones (brought back from Paris) and the new Madonna CD.

I got a RoadTrip for my iPod, another CrockPot (so I have to wend my way back to Macy's), white Bath Sheets, Vanilla Sugar lotion, sparkle, and shower gel, and some gorgeous "old world" glass ornaments, which I collect- among my favorites were a leopard (of course), a puffin, and a pickle. I don't care if it's a real tradition or not, i like the idea!

The stockings were stuffed to the gills too- I got a ton of double pointed knitting needles, some 80's CD's (including The Best of Dramarama), and some very large sunglasses.

Then I got to go home to clean up and change, and I couldn't resist getting into the stockings for the pets. Bear and Bosco rec'd a squeaking squirrel, a football on a rope, and a squeaky rubber high heel and a similar wingtip shoe. Bear managed to get both the football and the squirrel into his mouth simultaneously. The cat got treats and catnip mice and kitty toys, and the bird got treats and a crazy Lucite toy.

When The Man got home (exhausted- our Christmas Eve get together had gone really late!) we opened our gifts together. I got him four dress shirts and matching ties, which he'd really wanted. Then I opened my big box, and found a teeny box inside-



I am so excited! I love it. I wanted something simple that I could wear every day, and this totally fits the bill.

Then The Man put on a festive new red shirt, and I threw on some glitz and headed over to my parents place for dinner. We could both barely keep our eyes open.

Then this morning I was rudely awakened with the demand that I needed to WAKE up so we could visit his parents. MORE gifts...MORE food. Oh God!

I was blown away. My In-law's gift to me was a generous contribution to my Spinning Wheel Fund. So I went on eBay tonight and found:


I also got something that I have been asking for te last couple of years- a massaging foot soak tub. Hooray!

I feel so blessed and lucky- this has been a fantastic year, and I am sorry to see it ending. I love the fact that my family is doing well, that The Man's latest business ventures are starting to take root, that I am a sane person again without a soul-sucking job to make me crazy. I have a lot to be thankful for.

Did I mention this Christmas is still not over? We're supposed to travel to Sacramento to see my brother sometime this week. Oy!

I remember...

One the first day of kindergarten, they took roll call. I felt heartened- the guy on the list before me had an even harder-to-pronounce last name than I did. I found out later that it was a Basque name (same as mine) and those Basques seem to delight in putting together some bizarre letter combinations.

Anyway. I was 4 years old, the youngest kid in the class. Somehow, realizing that the teacher couldn't pronounce his name either made him feel like an ally. Most of my friends on the block were boys, but they were fair and freckled and seemed like a completely different species.

This kid was dark- black hair and eyes, with beautiful olive skin and rosy cheeks and a slightly crooked smile that lit up the room- when he smiled, which was a lot. I remember admiring his outfit- he had on corduroys and a red and blue plaid shirt.

Needless to say, this is the first time I can remember ever having a crush on someone. But I was a shy little girl- I just remember sort of watching him from afar as he roughhoused with the other little boys. But Mike was always different somehow.
I just remember his smile, his friendliness- there was a certain sweetness that just seemed to exude from him.

I changed schools after the third grade, and lost track of him- but somehow, in high school, I ran into him again- he was in my art class.

Aside from the obvious changes, Mike was into music like Guns and Roses, and I was in Academic Decathlon. Completely opposite ends of the spectrum. And yet, he was still adorable, and I still had a crush on him, to the point where it was almost crippling, which he was cheerfully oblivious to.

I think Art was his favorite subject, and he spent most of the time immersed in whatever project he was working on. He was really talented, and I specifically remember envying the realism of his drawings.

The last time I saw Mike, I was in college- probably a sophomore at Davis, and I was at a party with my friends in Fresno. I didn't know anyone else there. But my friends still lived in Fresno, and they were circulating and having a great time, and they'd just sort of forgotten about me.

Then this guy comes up to me- long dark wavy hair, which sort of threw me, but then there was that same smile. He greeted me, gave me a huge hug, and we caught up with what was going on in our lives- how he was going to City College, and really getting into his music. He introduced me around and made sure I was comfortable. At a college party where everyone's wasted, this isn't the norm. But that's just how Mike was.

Three days before I left for Paris, my mom called me to say that Mike was dead. She said there'd been some kind of accident in Tahoe.

To say that I was upset would be an understatement. To make matters worse, I would miss the memorial service. I looked at his obituary online, and saw posts from several of my former classmates- they all remembered Mike the same way that I did. They talked about his talents as a musician and as an artist.

Then last night, I asked my father about the details of the accident. Dad looked at me and said, "Mike committed suicide. He threw himself in front of an oncoming car.
There were four witnesses."

I held it together until The Man and I got in the car, and then I just....dissolved.

Ho ho ho!

So....Santa visited me last night, and I am willing to bet that you were all good little boys and girls this year, so I hope he was good to you too.

Here's some Christmas entertainment for you guys- feel the love!

I went out to dinner with The Man, my sister, and parents last night.

Scene: At an Italian Restaurant. "Feliz Navidad" comes on.

Me: *does the Cabbage Patch*

Sis: *holds up an imaginary lighter*

Dad: (to me) Now I know what you remind me of! I stayed at a hotel last week, and they have these incredibly elaborate Christmas decorations, and there was an animatronic Christmas figure out on my balcony.

Sis: I thought you said it was a Druid?!!!!!

*Hysterical laughter*

Me: A Druid who does the Cabbage Patch? Oh yeah, baby, that's me.

Dad: That's not what I meant!

Me: OK, Dad. I'll remember you later when I'm sacrificing the goat in my stone circle.

Dad:*mutters something about the claws coming out*

Mom:(out of nowhere) Jenna, what did you make for the get together tonight?

Me: Uuuuh- mint brownies, holly wreath cookies, spiced cider....

Sis: That must have taken forever!

Me: No, not too long. Now wait, I lied- I slaved all day over my DRUID FIRE!

*More hysterical laughter*

Dad: Yeah, HA HA, Merry Christmas...you ungrateful little cretins!

Fa lalalalalalalalalalallalalalaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa

It's Christmas Eve, people!

I am actually not out thwere shopping like a madwoman (I am inside, cleaning like a madwoman- although I may be forced to venture out to pick up some bird food and a few token desserts)

Anyway. Guys, Happy shopping (cause I know you're all out there today panicking.)

Here's to a super duper Merry Christmas!

My gift to you- 'cause a good giggle is almost as good as some heavily spiked eggnog:

The Bunnies present- A Christmas Story.

Woof woof woof, peep peep peep, meow meow meow meow meeeeooooowww.....

That's "Jingle Bells", kids. Well, at least at my house, it's Jingle Bells.

So- I went to Sephora today with my sister-in-law.

For me, Sephora is like The Promised Land. Wall to wall cosmetics, perfume, hair products.....*drool*

For her, it's like having bamboo shoots shoved under her fingernails. So she asked me to please, please be her spiritual guide and go with her.

Holy crap. Fashion Fair was freaking insane, yo.

AND Sephora? Out of everything on my Mother In Law's list. Bastards. Although there was an adorable little salesclerk who asked me where I got my necklace and who was wearing about the same amount of eyeliner as I was. He (not a typo) was hilarious, and a master of the eye-rolling to boot.

Still- I looked at all the SUV's and demon strollers, and congratulated myself on pretty much ordering all my Christmas presents online this year. I'm much too happy to have to deal with the crazy ghetto people who inhabit Fashion Fair mall. Especially at holiday time, when all their yuppie relatives come to visit.

Also, *insert evil laugh here* Alan's dad? For Christmas? Asked for ammunition. I swear.

I was aghast, but The Man said, "Oh, I'll just go to WalMart and pick that up on the way home from work tomorrow."

I didn't say, "You're going to WalMart? The day before Christmas Eve? You must be insaaaaaaane." I just gave him a pretty little smile and kept my trap shut. Hahahahahahahaaaaaa....I can't wait 'til he gets home to hear how that went. Although, I'm thinkin', big huge tall guy buying ammo at the Wal-Mart while wearing military uniform...people will probably just get out of his way.

Meanwhile, there's nobody I am mad enough at this year to use my "DIY escargot kit" idea on. But if there's anyone you know who deserves a box of live snails this holiday season, please feel free to use the idea yourself.

Baby pictures!

THIS reminds me.

I just got a picture of my brother's new puppy (actually, the new pup he got for his fiance) in my email yesterday.

Are you ready for this?



I defy you not to say "Awwwwwwwwwwwwwwwww" when you see this picture.

How to tell when you're in a really, really, really good mood.

Dude.

"Maniac" came on the radio, and I just did the little dance.

That's right, THE little dance.

No, not the one with the shower. (thank God, 'cause it would have really messed up the carpet)

The other one. The off-the-shoulder-ripped-sweatshirt and leg-warmers one. (Jennifer Beals was wearing these, not me!)

What the hell?

Have aliens taken over my body!!!??

Actually, as a footnote, I think Jack 105.9 is channeling its inner stripper. After Maniac, they played Magic Man by Heart.

No, I didn't dance to it. Mainly because there is no stripper pole in my living room.

Hello, My Name is Secret Squirrel

Otherwise known as the individual formerly known as "my buddy". I'll let y'all know what Secret Squirrel thinks of her new name.

I know I have been quiet. I have been baking cookies and cleaning the house. And I am definitely going to knitting tonight.

Stop laughing!

*sulk*

I actually cleaned out my makeup archives today. I filled an entire freaking grocery bag, people. The big paper kind. I actually unearthed product which dates back into the mid-nineties, including all that horrible Dermablend "bridal spackle" I wore for the big day (seriously, I felt like I had to apply it with a caulking gun)- all pitched!

So Neighbor, if you see any drag queens dumpster diving over here, you'll know why.

My makeup case is the only place where makeup is now stored. Granted, the makeup case is one of those "train case" deals, and it's roughly the size of a Buick. (Only half full, I swear!) But it still counts as cleaning. Dammit.

And I am going somewhere instead of watching the new Project Runway. I shall have The Man record it, since we still live in the Dark Ages and don't have a TiVo.

Random advice: When you order Sesame Chicken from the Chinese take-out place, eat it all then. Leftovers are not adviseable. Bleah!

Making Cookies

That's right, beeeeeyotches. I'm making cookies.

Although in my head, it sounds like an SNL sketch- "Maaaking Coooookies...the Cookiemeister." Aren't you glad I shared that with you? Try to get it out of your head now. HA!

We'll see how many of the little suckers survive to see Christmas Eve......

In other news, I have been selected to help Santa fill stockings this year. My brother is spending the holiday with the family of his fiancee, and she just realized that that means- ONE stocking left.

So in the interest of making Santa's life easier, my stocking (yes, and The Man's, as well) are travelling over to Mom and Dad's house.

Forget the medal- give me a halo!

Overheard at Mom & Dad's

Yes, I was a good little girl today, and helped my parents to take the gi-normous fake Christmas tree out of the attic- and helped decorate it. I so deserve a medal. (OK, they took The Man and I to a movie- and bought us dinner. Medal not necessary.)

Mom: Did you get my Christmas list yet?

Me: Um- No.

Mom: Well, Dad said he would send it. He put it into his blueberry.

Me: What?!

Mom: Wait, that's the wrong color....

Me: His Blackberry?!

Mom: Yeah, that's it.

Dad: Um, actually, it's a Treo.

Later on....

Dad: Well, I want to see King Kong.

Mom: *makes face* What about Walk The Line?

Dad: What about you Jen?

Me: Um- I could go either way. I 'm the swing vote, so I'm holding out for a bribe.

Dad: Such as...?

Me: A pony and some real estate.

Conversations with my TV

Victoria's Secret Commercial: "Give me everything I want...and nothing I need..."

Me: Because we all know that underwear is optional....but being a stupid whore is forever.

The Man: Bhahaha! You better blog that.


Coincidentally, this is post #100! (And I still haven't blogged Paris- Day 3- I know, I am sitting around, slacking and mocking underwear commercials. Muuahahahaaaa!)

Kill Santino. (And Adam Corrolla, while you're at it.)

So, I get all freakin' domesticated yesterday. And then The Man happened to mention that what his mom wants for X-mas is a...handknitted scarf. So I started on that- and then....Project Runway came on.

Ooooooh, how I loves me some Project Runway! The inflated egos. The backstabbing. The designs that are great when they're good, but are somehow even better when they're hideous. And...the hissyfits. Hearing a grown man scream "Where the hell is my CHIFFON????!!!!!" in falsetto agony is...well, hilarious.

Time stops when Project Runway is on- ask The Man. I gave him The Hand and shushed him, just for trying to talk to me. Yeah, I know I need to chill.

Um- Paris, Day Three will be posted later today. I swear!

Paris: Day Two

IMG_0520
Originally uploaded by jenna_sais_quoi.

Crazy busy day. It was a Sunday, so admission was free to the Louvre. We woke up early and headed first over to Notre Dame, where we were excited to see the Christmas decor and hear part of mass.

Of course, it was early and still dark, so many of my pics are dark and I couldn't use a flash. The staned glass wasn't lit, so it was hard to see, but for that, the pictures of St. Chapelle later on will more than make up for it.

On the way to Notre Dame, we passed this bizarre courtyard Christmas display featuring some igloos (if you're looking at the pics and wondering what the heck was going on.)

Notre Dame was beautiful. We had a mamorable exchange outside with a guy who only spoke French, and when he asked us if we were Catholic, I said, (unthinkingly)"No, we're Americans." This cracked us all up.

There's a gorgeous Nativity scene within Notre Dame that I got a picture of- there were already parishoners there, so I couldn't take flash pictures, so there are very few pics of this place.

We were disappointed to see that the baby Jesus had been removed from the manger, and outside, people had stripped the ornaments from the Christmas tree as high as they could reach, despite barricades placed around it.

We finished up after hearing the introductory Mass and the beautiful, ethereal organ music. Then we headed to a cafe for breakfast.

French breakfast (petit dejuner) is basically the same every day. The meal consists of- croissant, tartine (a slim baguette) served with cream cheese or butter with jam, cafe au lait or hot chocolate, and orange juice. Needless to say, it's Dr. Atkins' worst nightmare. I loved it.

Off to the Louvre!

The pictures don't do the place justice. I should say (in my defense) that the rooms were HUGE, it was still dark out, and a lot of my pictures are incredibly dark. We were also prohibited from using flash or even taking photographs in a lot of areas- including those with the Mona Lisa.

So my photographic documentation of the Louvre is a lot of the outer areas, the Egyptian exhibits and the sculpture. But like I said, it's dark.

We had a truly vile concoction in the Louvre, known as a Croque Monsieur, which would probably have been decent if it hadn't been previously frozen and then partially reheated. This was during our break halfway through- the Louvre took most of the day to see everything.

We nibbled at our nasty sandwiches and I filled out postcards to send to the addresses that I could remember off the top of my head. Thus fortified, we went off to see the rest.

Around four, we ended up back at the hotel with our feet killing us, and we actually took a nap. Reviving around 8PM for dinner, we headed out to the Eiffel Tower at night to take the elevator to the top.

I should say (for those of you who don't understand the blurry photos) that I am an amateur photog, at best. And surrounding all the Parisian attractions there are- well, people. Tourists, regular Parisians, and-

Well, I am guessing the people who were rioting a few weeks back. While I was trying to snap the nighttime shots of the Eiffel Tower, there was literally a guy behind me in the bushes, who was (from the sound of things)peeing.

The rest of these random people were pretty agressive, trying to sell souvenirs to the obvious tourists among us (of which, I was one).

If you stopped for a minute, there would be a guy accosting you and trying to sell you a light-up eiffel tower or keychains, saying things like "Lady, Lady! Wait- You are American yes? Look- Il s'illume! ("It lights up!")Look- Bling bling!"

Yes, I swear to god, they said bling-bling. I got a lot of mileage out of pretending to be blind and deaf and saying, "Non, merci, je ne comprend pas", which neans no, thanks, I don't understand.

I have to admit, I was definitely underwhelmed by the journey to the top of the Eiffel tower. It probably would have been better during the day, although seeing the lights of the city at night were impressive- but at night, it was freezing cold and windy, and full of incredibly rude tourists.

Would you believe me if I said that someone literally used her four-year-old child as a battering ram to clock my Buddy upside the head and take her spot? Because that actually happened!

We were exhasted at the end of the night. Pictures to document the day's adventures are here.

What a long day.....but we had to build up our strength, because the Next Day- DISNEYLAND. Paris style!

Paris- Day One

IMG_0469
Originally uploaded by jenna_sais_quoi.

Oh MAN.

We got off the plane at 8 AM, exhausted and generally suffering from big-time culture shock.

Once we stashed the bags at our hotel, we were told that we couldn't get into our room until after noon- so we grabbed the camera and did some sight-seeing, and had brunch at a nearby brasserie- a cheese omelette. It was seriously one of the best things I have ever tasted!

That's one thing I should definitely mention- we had only one bad food experience, and we ate in a different place every single meal of every single day. In Paris, the restaurants are everywhere, and they cannot survive unless the food is sublime, or if they'll cater to the tastes of tourists.

We learned (after the one bad experience) that if there were hot dogs or hamburgers prominently displayed (in English) on the menu, we probably shouldn't even go in.

The first place that we went to explore was Cimetière du Père Lachaise, which is evidently the most fashionable final resting place in all of France.

Many major French artists are there, as well as Oscar Wilde and Jim Morrison. We couldn't locate the Lizard King's grave- however, judging by the graffiti on the monuments nearby, we came pretty close.

I had a hard time shaking the insane feeling that we were in some kind of a macabre Disneyland. Everything in Paris is beautiful, with a stunning attention to detail, and an awe-inspiring patina of age.

Here in the U.S., it's a big deal if real estate is 100 years old. There- well, everything is at least that old, or significantly older.

At noon on the dot, we headed back to the hotel and crashed with a resounding thud. We were dead to the world until about 5PM, when we awoke and decided to check out the Eiffel Tower (our hotel was very nearby) and walk around and search out the place for dinner.

You've already heard a little about out dinner the first night. In any case, a French restaurant that can mess up both steak & frites and a creme brulee is seriously in over its head.

We were too late to take the elevator up to the top of the Eiffel Tower, but we got some fantastic photographs from the ground. The little white lights are actually twinkle lights- they sparkle for ten minutes at the hour, and it's absolutely breathtaking to watch.

You know all those things that you hear about the snotty French people?

I admit, in some cases, they are right on the money. Here though, is an example of something that would never happen here in the U.S.- at least not in a city the size of Paris.

My buddy and I got out a map as we were walking through a park on the way back to the hotel. Some guy in his 30's was walking by with his wife, and he asked if we were lost.

We said no, but he came over and checked the map, made sure we were going in the right direction, and even said that we could follow he and his wife to their car, which was near the hotel, and they'd point us from there. Then he mentioned that it was so near- they'd be happy to give us a ride. (!)

We didn't accept, but thanked them for their help. I was completely blown away. I will say, the younger people were generally much more friendly than the older ones- and were so openly shocked and pleased when I would attempt to communicate with the high school French.

Most of the French I encountered could speak English quite well- we had no trouble making ourselves understood pretty much everywhere we went. So we ended our first day feeling pretty confident!

If you'd like to sight-see along with us in Paris, the pictures I took on our first day are here. Enjoy!

I'm baaaaaaaack!

Wow.

I got back late last night. In a bizarre twist, the odd hours that I keep while syncing with The Man's schedule worked perfectly with the time difference from France. NO jet lag! Which is a good thing, since I am one of the unlucky few who cannot sleep on airplanes.

France is beautiful. The people are, for the most part, great, although I would like to round up about 10% of the Parisians, bind them up in their fur coats, gag them with their berets, and throw them in the Seine. But I digress.

I had a wonderful time, which I will go into detail about later. I am downloading photos as I type. But it's so good to be back in the good old USA. I had to override a strong urge to kiss the tarmac after we disembarked in Washington DC. (This may have had something to do with the French family who sat behind us- the shrieking one-year-old and the seat-kicking three-year old were uh, an experience.)

Coming home was wonderful. There are no words for it. I missed my husband, my home and the animal crew, my friends and family, more than I could ever have believed possible.

I got to the Fresno airport at about 9:30 after 14 hours in airplanes (not to mention layover time!), and the sight of The Man in white pickup truck was one of the most fantastic things I have ever seen.

Then I came home, and realized that he had actually not trashed the house- but he had CLEANED the garage and office, thrown away any and all incriminating pizza boxes (although, I noticed some Weinerschnitzel napkins lurking about) and put up my pointsettia wreath on the door.

Then I got into the kitchen, and realized that my NEW STOVE has arrived and been installed. My cup runneth over!

I am currently baking banana bread in said stove, listeing to Brian Setzer sing Christmas carols, and unpacking Christmas paraphanalia in preparation for decorating the house interior and trimming the tree.

I had lots of fun. But it's SO good to be back!

Hello, My name is ______________

So.

My Buddy (the one I am going to France with) wants a new name on the 'ol blog. "Buddy" is evidently not doing it for her.

I suggested "Fedora Puffypants", but we agreed that's actually what we call her ex-husband, and is therefore inappropriate. Or, at least, inaccurate.

Perhaps something will reveal itelf when we are both in la belle France?

Of course, you guys are also welcome to make suggestions.

Chick, Interrupted

How the hell do we have so much laundry?

I seriously don't understand it.

The Man: What did you do all day?

Me: I did laundry.

TM: Oh good, I am almost out of uniforms.

Me: What uniforms?! I washed everything in the hamper and the sorter!

TM: I don't think they're in the hamper or the sorter.

Me: Well, where the hell are they? Maybe up your ass?!

Ok, this didn't happen word-for-word. (The Man is reading this over my shoulder- just play along, OK?)

Anyway. Yes. I definitely need a vacation.