January 22, 2006 | Filed under: Uncategorized

Stupid, f-ing hormones. Yes, I blame YOU for this. (’Cuz if it’s not your fault, we have a lot bigger problems to deal with.) I woke up today with my life in (minor) shambles. My brain is going on and on with a line of questioning that has no answers. Is this what I want? Am I doing the right thing? What am I doing here? Is this the stupidest thing I’ve ever done? Can I undo it? Is this really something I need to do something about, or will life take care of it on its own? Is there any way to know? But I’m happy – why am I second-guessing myself? Why won’t these questions just go away? I really don’t want to deal with any of them. Argh! (And if you have no idea what I’m talking about, then good, I’ve done a decent enough job of glossing over my problems. Because I do not need to air all of my dirty laundry for the entire Internet. But it’s tempting.)

And you know it’s bad when your head is still going on about this in church and you’re getting mad at the old people sitting next to you for talking to each other too loudly. Tension, frustration. And dropping the prayer card thingy on the floor. Tension, frustration, tension, frustration. And then you’re pissed off at the choir director. Just shut up with your announcements and let us sing the damn song. That I don’t even like anyway. We know how this music-in-church thing works, we don’t need a lesson in the middle of the service. Shhhh already! Get. To. The. Singing! Tension, frustration, tension, frustration, tension, frustration, nearly to the point of tears, in the middle of church.

Hi, yes, I’m just a wee bit strung out today, why do you ask? (Smiling falsely and batting eyelashes rapidly.)

It reminds me of the conversations/fights that Nick and I used to have. We’d pretend to calmly, rationally discuss the state of our relationship, and he’d try to convince me that, sure it’s not where I want it to be, but that doesn’t mean it’s bad, and it’ll get there, eventually, someday, maybe. But in the meantime, no, no I don’t love you, but there’s nothing wrong with that, because I want to be in love with you, but it just hasn’t happened yet, and I know you love me and I’m happy about that and we’re all just peachy here and I really do like you and appreciate what you do for me, and if it doesn’t work out between the two of us, I’m sure you’ll find someone better. (Which is exactly what you want to hear from someone who’s supposed to be in love with you by now damn it, right?) And although we are both very intellectual, talk-things-through kind of people and the conversations would start out with actual words, somewhere along the line I would invariably be in tears. Like, can’t-even-string-together-an-entire-sentence-
without-being-interrupted-by-more-sobbing tears. I cried more in those twelve months than in the preceding 25 years combined. And reapplied a lot of mascara.

I wish I could blame all that on hormones, like I suspect is today’s problem, but we had those conversations more frequently than every four weeks. Yeah. Those were twelve very long months. And for the people who heard many of the blow-by-blow accounts: I can’t believe you still talk to me. But thanks.

And now? I’m going to go make some coffee and enjoy my five-thousand-calorie, chocolate-covered, custard-filled doughnut. After which maybe I’ll go find some Midol and wash it down with a bottle of cabernet. I’ve never actually taken Midol, but today might be a good time to start. It’s that or some Valium. The wine, though? Is A Must. These nerves have got to chill out somehow.

Filed under: Uncategorized

I’ve spent the last year on an airplane.

In 2005, six airlines took me on fourteen trips to eight different cities and a dozen airports: Austin, Sacramento (twice), Indianapolis, DC (three times), LA (twice), Atlanta, Chicago (twice), Vegas, and one crazy Sacramento-Atlanta-Chicago loop. I racked up 58,787 frequent flier miles (plus 7 “credits earned” on Southwest. Whatever that means.) I can tell you what airline you’re flying based solely upon where your connection is. And yet, I still haven’t managed to fly anywhere for free. Maybe if I schedule a trip to Akron the second week in November, they’ll let me use my frequent flier miles. Maybe.

Through all this traveling, I’ve developed some rather particular routines. First off, I hate giving up the day flying, so I look for a red-eye first. Sure, I’m a zombie by the end of the day, but I’d rather fall asleep during dinner than just be getting off the plane at 7:00 pm. If the red-eye doesn’t work, my next choice is a 6:00 am flight. They’re almost more brutal than the red-eye, because instead of being on a plane fast asleep at 4:00 am, the SuperShuttle people are arriving at my door to take me to the airport. Ugh.

Secondly, my flight is probably interfering with some sort of normal sleep schedule. (Not that I have a “normal” sleep schedule, but you know what I mean.) Therefore, time spent on the shuttle, in the terminal, and on the plane is time that I should be asleep. It’s hard to sleepwalk through the security checkpoint, so I have to be somewhat awake for about thirty minutes of the process. Ninety, if I’m flying out of Dulles. (Side note to those of you who don’t fly often: when in doubt, TAKE IT OFF AND PUT IT THROUGH THE X-RAY MACHINE. This includes your shoes, jacket, belt with buckle-the-size-of-Texas, firearms, incendiary devices, and small children. Also, not everything has to go in a gray plastic bin. There is nothing contaminating about the rubber conveyor belt. Your coat will be ok traveling through the x-ray machine unprotected by the gray plastic bin that sixteen thousand other people’s stuff has been in today. Think about it – the conveyor belt is probably less germy.)

Where was I? Oh right, my routines. The final crucial piece of my travel plans involves seat selection. I am not tall. I do not need three feet of leg room to feel comfortable. Rather, I am impatient. I need to be near the front of the plane, so I can get off as quickly as humanly possible and get on with the rest of my day. Even if the immediate rest of my day consists of waiting at another gate for a delayed flight. Also, I need my personal space, for the sleeping portion of the flight. (Approximately 100% of our flight time.) Thus, I choose a window seat. Just let me get on the plane, settle my belongings in and go to sleep. I don’t want to watch your little safety video with the too-loud audio that explains what to do if the oxygen masks come down. If something happens such that we need the oxygen masks, I hope I’m asleep. I was recently on a flight where the flight attendant woke me up to check to see that my seatbelt was buckled. In preparation for takeoff. I don’t even wake up anymore when they come around with pretzels and Diet Coke. And for me to sleep through free Diet Coke is a pretty big sacrifice.

On the subject of sacrifices, FAA, what is the deal with these silly electronic device restrictions? Are you honestly telling me that my iPod is going to f-up the multi-million dollar computer systems the pilots use to fly the plane? Really? Because I’m trying to sleep here, and the music makes the rest of the plane disappear. And I really don’t want to rouse myself once we’ve reached our cruising altitude just to enjoy the iPod. And I really, really don’t want to be woken up twenty minutes before we land with your stupid announcement telling me to turn off the iPod. You just woke me up! I skipped the Diet Coke and haven’t had caffeine in six hours! And now you’re going to take away my only source of happiness for the half hour remaining on our flight and the person sitting next to me will decide that now is a great time to strike up a conversation because I have no way to escape and they already annoyed the crap out of the person in the aisle seat??? Because my enjoyment of Dave Matthews will prevent the pilots from landing the plane?!?!?

However, I am a reasonable person, FAA. I’ll make a deal with you: I will continue to abide by your iPod ban if you maintain the ban on cell phones. Because heaven help us if I have to try to sleep through someone’s incessant cell phone chatter without the benefit of my iPod. The airlines do not have enough Diet Coke to keep things from getting ugly.

January 21, 2006 | Filed under: Uncategorized

Love. Love love love. LOVE.

See why. My VCR (yes, I still have a VCR. Shut up.) has been programmed for weeks. And I’ll check it again today. Probably more than once.

In addition to tonight’s lovefest, I have recently enjoyed Blues Traveler and Coldplay, thanks to the good folks at PBS and Austin City Limits and KLRU. But I can do without the Elvis Costello and the Lyle Lovett, ok? Also, Ryan needs — needs — the entire hour. What is this business about sharing time with some Tift Merritt chick? WTF? Outside of that, I love you. Love love love. So much that I may be compelled to make a charitable, tax-deductible donation just to make sure there’s future love. Preferably of musicians I love. I’ll send you a list if you need ideas.

While we’re on the subject of public broadcasting love (which is definitely not as hot as it sounds), last night I discovered the depths of my true dork-dom: I was watching — well, eating dinner and reading mail in front of — The NewsHour with Jim Lehrer and some reporter was all blah blah blah about the pissing match the Feds have gotten in with Google, and I thought, “Oh crap! I bet it’s 6:30! Shit! I’m missing Marketplace!” And, indeed, it was 6:32 pm, so I had to turn off the public broadcast television programming and turn on my public broadcast radio programming. Because it was the last installment of their week in China! And that doesn’t happen very often! Kai Ryssdal hasn’t been to China in eight years! You think I’m going to miss 20% of the broadcasting-from-China time to hear some law professors blather on about Google and Alberto Gonzales and the ACLU and I’ve already heard this story like sixteen million times today? Hey-yell no. Please do not tell Mr. Lehrer, for it will hurt his feelings. And he doesn’t even have Mr. McNeill with whom to share the blame anymore.

But, tonight. TOTALLY DIFFERENT. Osama bin Laden could be delivering the State of the Union live on NPR and still I would not turn off Austin City Limits. And miss seeing Ryan Adams “live” in concert from the comfort of my own bed??? As if!

January 20, 2006 | Filed under: Uncategorized

Folding laundry = boring.
Folding laundry + champagne + the West Wing = much more exiciting.

Seriously, I do not remember the last time I drank a whole bottle of champagne by myself. Graduation? Kathy’s wedding? Either way, darn good times. And, can I just say – this $5.08 champagne from Target was worth every penny.

Oh, note to any readers still in high school: drinking does not make everything fun and cool. Drinking is bad, mmmkay? Oops! I mean readers under 21. Orf course you wouldn’t drink until you’re 21.

I was supposed to go grocery shopping tonighgt. Oops. We’ve already seen how well I do when I’m not in the modd for groceries…drunk, not such a good option. Oh, and the driving involved, definitely no. So, tomorrow we’ll be going out for lunch. Or having avacodos and beer.

Also, I must admit, I watch Project Runway. Yes, really. I’m not much of a reality TV fan, but this is one show I will actually sit through. I watched it last season out of a sense of duty (the BR connection and all) but have so far avoided it this year. But alas, I caught a couple re-runs over the weekend and it’s on my TV right now, so…I watch. And worse, I enjoy. (OK, y’all, you have no idea how hard it was to get that link to work right. It’s hard enough sober–you try it while drunk! See how much I love you?)

Can I just say, I love the fact that women can be about-ready-to-burst-pregnant on TV? Cuz in 1983 that wasn’t the case. And Heidi Klum…for as much as I hate her delivery (hot? yes; but an actress she is not) I am totally loving the bangs. So much softer of a look than last year. And please, if there’s a god, can you please, please, please make me look that good when I’m pregnant? I’ll do whatever you ask! Sacrifice my firstborn, sure. Pretty please?

Yeah, so that’s my Thursday night: laundry, champagne, and some quality Bravo TV programming. How jealous are you?

Aslo, I would just like to say, that if I can (1) take pictures, (2) download them to the computer, and (3) post them to the blog in this condition, perhaps, Canon, I do not need this many instruction manuals to teach me. Just a thought. (Though at some point the computer did a blue-screen-thing and then spontaneously rebooted. Not surer what that was about. Whatev.)

Anywya, it’s probalby time for bed for me. But there’s basketball on. Hmmm. Tough call.

UPDATE: 5:04 am. Shhhh, alarm clock! Why are you so annoying? Mmmmm, water. Water is soooo tasty. And you, on the kitchen counter. Don’t think I didn’t see you, empty champagne bottle and champagne flute, so damn cheerful and innocent-looking. You’re not exactly on my good list right now. I’m going back to bed; maybe I’ll feel like greeting the day in another hour or two.

January 19, 2006 | Filed under: Uncategorized

New York City!

That’s right, folks, my airline credit has been redeemed for a 5-day, 4-night trip to the nation’s most crowded island. It’ll be fabulous! Actually, the airline credit only gets me to about Detroit, and does nothing in the way of a hotel stay (What is this business about sharing a bathroom at the end of the hall with a bunch of strangers? Did I miss the memo informing me I’m back in college?) but who cares? I get a real vacation in a real city. Hooray! Oh, and the dates are March 23-27 for any of you who want to join me.

Any suggestions on where to go, what to see, where to eat/drink are welcome. Preferably things off the beaten track…I’m confident I can find the Empire State Building on my own. But a cute little European bistro in Chelsea? The best place to get cannoli in Little Italy? Definitely tell me about those.